


Ne Puero Gladium

by Anayim



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emperor!Khan, Khirk, M/M, Slavery, ancient rome au, dang i made another au, did i mention slavery because thats in there too, gladiator fights, gladiator!Kirk, okay so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anayim/pseuds/Anayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked up at the Emperor’s box once more and rose his new weapon high in the air, inducing a whole new wave of cheers and shouts from the crowd. “Retiarius! Retiarius!” could be heard chanted in triumph. Netman. </p><p>Jim is a Gladiatior. His life is fighting his opponents and his death would bring nothing but pleasure from the crowds that flock to see him fight. He fights before the Emperor, and that life suddenly changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Luctor et Emergo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo! alright so im stepping away from my khirk coffeeshop au because im in the mood to write some gory, sweaty khirk tough love. All the historical stuff in the fic is as accurate as I can manage, considering my knowledge of roman life is limited to stuff i learn in latin class and stuff i find on the internet. enjoy!

Jim could hear the chaotic yells and stomping feet of the crowds, but couldn’t see them. He didn’t really want to. Sweat streaked down his tanned back and under the collar of his crude leather armor. It was dark under the coliseum. He heard the panicked shouts of the men fighting above him, but felt no sympathy for them. Not when he could take one of their places in a matter of minutes. Not when he had to go up there and fight for his own life.

The cheers were growing louder. Jim knew that the fight must be drawing to a close. He couldn’t distinguish the cheers meant to save the poor bastard being beaten to death from the cheers meant to condemn him, but it didn’t matter.

This wasn’t a game for their freedom- not when they had such an important audience. This was a game to show the emperor that his funds were being used to train the best gladiators –the most bloodthirsty, wild dogs that had ever been bred for entertainment. If they let the victor run free, their fun would be over, wouldn’t it? No, the victor would simply live to see another day, another fight.

The guards and his master were approaching the remaining gladiators. There wasn’t a single man left who hadn’t fought, and only a few who had only fought once. The victor of the last fight followed behind, blood on his hands and tunic. He was soaked with the stuff; it lingered on his face and hair, and painted his clothes and bare legs. He sat sorely on one of the sparse wooden benches in their cage.

Obviously, his opponent had not won the favor of the crowds. Jim hung his head; the smallest of recognition for the lost slave, who no doubt died a nameless man.

“The emperor grows tired in the day,” the master said, his oily fingers coming together in a light grasp, “There shall be one more fight.”

Jim felt his stomach drop, as it did every time a fight was announced. He had already fought two; one against a man too slow to compete with him, and one who was too terrified to move at all. Both were slaves he had shared bread with, slaves that he had trained with. Surely after two the emperor would not want to see him again?

“You,” the master stated, grabbing a big man, with hulking muscles and a towering gait, “Prepare yourself.” He shoved the man briskly towards the door, although he couldn’t really shove him at all. The master was a squat thing, with a nasally voice and ruddy cheeks. He always seemed to have a cold, and complained often, pushing the men to train hard in the heat of a Roman summer while he fretted in the shade.

Jim tried to turn invisible, he really did. He wanted the darkness of the cage to envelop him, hide him from the bloodlust that resided in the dusty air of the arena. But he had no luck.

“You,” the master said, roughly pulling him to his feet, “You are to oppose him.” The master smiled his ugly smile, with rotten teeth and swollen gums, “May the gods have mercy on you, boy.”

The master really had no faith in Jim. He set his jaw and went with the guards. His mind was spinning, just like it did during every fight, thinking about what his opponent looked like, what his weaknesses were. The big man fighting him was obviously stronger, but probably slower. It was a hunt, then. He would have to slow him down further, and stop him from being able to use his strength. But how had the brute beaten his other opponents? He had fought four times; the emperor obviously enjoyed watching him fight. In fact, the emperor was probably betting on the bigger bloke, as he had probably hardly noticed Jim.

His leather armor was not reinforced. He was not given a sword or a shield. He was given a net and a pair of thin gladiator sandals. There was no way the crowd was on his side this time. He cursed the size of the arena; if they could see closer, see that his hair was blonde under the dirt and his eyes were blue under the sweat and blood, then their interests would be piqued. Everybody likes a foreigner, it spices up the games. Damn. He prayed that his opponent was stupid, so he could attempt outwitting him, because at this rate, there was no chance of outmatching him.    

The arena was hotter than it was when he last fought. The sun was directly above them, beating down on his already sun-worn skin. He rose his chin up with a confidence he didn’t really have, throwing his net to hang over his shoulder in an act of apparent pride. He strolled into the arena like that; beaming up at the crowds and mentally noting the changes on the grounds since the last few fights.

Blood was everywhere, as was to be expected, but shards of broken weapons and shields littered the once empty ground. Flowers were strewn about as well, from the crowds in support of their favorite gladiators.

The crowd was loud when Jim walked to his starting point, but grew to deafening when his opponent slunk in.

This gladiator did not beam at the crowds. He had crude metal armor drawn over his shoulders and chest, with the weak spots of his collar bone and throat still showing. He had a sturdy-looking round shield on his right arm and a painful-looking trident in his left hand. The last thought the Jim had was _Hey, this guy’s left handed_ before his opponent charged at him.

Jim had fought animals before. Mostly wild hogs and angry wildcats, but once a starved tiger and a rhinoceros for a special senate guest at his training grounds. The man who charged at him with a poorly placed shield and a trident had the fear of the hog and the ferocity of the rhino.

The crowd roared at this immediate action, and Jim knew better than to try and outrun the other. The crowds –and most likely, the emperor- hate cowards.

So he stood stock still, waiting for the rhino-man. And the moment he thought he was going to have an easy victory, Jim jerked to his left, bumped by the shield, but able to watch his opponent gain his footing again. He shot a winning smile to the crowd on his right for good measure. His biggest worry would be that they would find his fighting unsatisfactory and demand he be slaughtered by the beast he fought against.

So he did his best to make it interesting. He calculated what he would do next carefully, judging how best to let the emperor see from his box above the arena. After all, the emperor was the one who chose the gladiators for this last fight, and Jim bitterly refused to let him see what he expected.

The blow from behind was unsurprising. Jim knew that he would have to get himself beat up before he put his plan into action, so he toppled to the ground when his opponent rushed into him.

For a few moments, they were a mass of tearing, twisting limbs. Jim struggled openly with the large man atop him; difficult, as he was pinned to the ground by the man’s massive knee on his back. The ground below them grew bloody and dark as the metal and wood that littered the ground scraped, punctured, and stabbed at them. The man shoved his right arm over Jim’s face, trying to break his neck with brute force, bracing himself with his left hand on the ground next to Jim’s head. That was his mistake.

Jim tangled his fishing net on his opponent’s bracing hand and savagely bit the arm in his face. His opponent howled in surprise, jerking himself to the side, off of Jim, but didn’t get much further. Jim jumped up and kicked the man roughly in the side, tightening the net on his wrist and twisting it sharply, until he heard a snap. He then tangled the rest of the net over any limb he could reach.

The crowd roared loud enough that Jim couldn’t hear his opponent’s anguished cry. But Jim didn’t smile at the crowd this time. His breath came in gasps, and he knew there was debris embedded in his back. His ribs ached; at the back of his mind he wondered if he had broken a few. He dragged his opponent a few feet to smear his blood on the ground. The man was struggling with the net viciously, obviously in a panic, not even noticing as Jim walked around him and picked up his trident.

The weapon weighed heavy in his hand, so he turned it around and hit the other man hard on the side of the head with the blunt end. His struggles stopped slightly, but his groan told Jim that he wasn’t dead quite yet.

He turned the trident around again. And stepped on his opponent’s hurt wrist. Blood was pounding in his ears- or was that the crowd’s pleasure at seeing such a surprising defeat? He looked up at the Emperor’s box once more and rose his new weapon high in the air, inducing a whole new wave of cheers and shouts from the crowd. “ _Retiarius! Retiarius!_ ” could be heard chanted in triumph. _Netman._

This was the tricky part. Would the crowds let him spare this poor fool below him? Or would he have to force this trident into his opponent’s chest. Or head. Oh God, whatever he did he hoped it killed the poor guy quickly.

He looked up at the Emperor’s box once again. There he was. Out of the shade and into the sunlight. Jim squinted up at the Emperor, wincing at the feeling of sweat sting the corners of his eyes.

Jim could have groaned at the sight before him. There the emperor stood: fantastic fabrics draped along his lean body, bracelets and rings cluttering his hands and wrists. His hips were leaning leisurely against the marble wall that separated him and a long fall, and his graceful arm extended so Jim could see his hand clearly. His elegant thumb pointed downward.

The crowd roared.

Without a moment’s hesitation Jim shoved the trident into his opponent’s chest. It took mere moments for the man to stop struggling; Jim had hit his heart directly. He lowered his head for another nameless death.   

~o~

 Jim received his laurel wreath normally. The few gladiators remaining each were rewarded with one. A handful of those were proud to receive one; proud of their efforts to stay alive. Jim, frankly, didn’t care too much for the reward. He would only appreciate a reward when it came with his freedom. And not a single event had led to that result.

They were due to arrive back at their training grounds by nightfall, and were pressed for time. So when Jim was led to a water pump to get cleaned up after his fight, he was more than a little surprised. They needed to leave as quickly as possible, there was no time for bathing. Never before had the games ended in clean bodies, the gladiators were always pressed together in a cage on a wagon, still covered in the blood and grime of the day’s work.

Obviously the men in charge of cleaning him up noticed his confusion. Obviously they had no intention of telling a slave why he was being cleaned up for the ride back home.

Jim took it in stride. Perhaps it was on good behavior. Being clean was a pleasant feeling, and he wasn’t about to argue with those above him. He stripped out of his bloodstained tunic and began scrubbing hard at the dried blood, dirt, and sweat that clung to him.

He heard his master’s voice somewhere nearby. He was given a towel to dry himself off as quickly as possible and thrown a new, slightly less dirty tunic to cover himself with.

He had just pulled it over himself and brushed his now wet hair out of his eyes when his master rounded the corner and walked in his direction.

He was walking with Emperor Khan himself.

“So you see, sir,” his master was saying, his cheeks more red than usual, “You simply can’t want to purchase _him_ , I mean, he’s a good fighter, yes, but-”

“I am the Emperor, I can do as I please, Consilius,” Khan said smoothly, strolling leisurely at the master’s side.

“Yes, of course, Emperor Khan, but he isn’t a _house_ slave by any means, he’s bred for fighting, he can’t-”

“Silence, Consilius.” Khan said, slowing to a stop in front of Jim. Jim swallowed nervously, eyes glued to the ground that Khan stood on. The guards who had been charged with overlooking his bath straightened themselves up on either of his sides.

Khan moved forward and circled Jim, slowly, scrutinizing Jim where he stood. Jim willed himself not to shift, and tried to summon the same fake-confidence that he had in the arena.

To him, Khan looked out of place in this dirty, bloody place. His deep purple, white, and scarlet robes stood out among the dull, grey bricks. Pale skin was distinctive among the tanned faces he was surrounded by. The jingle of gold jewelry stood apart from the surrounding sounds of carts being loaded and men moving this way and that.

“Look at me, child,” the Emperor said softly, coming to a halt in front of Jim.

It was funny. Jim had no hesitation putting a trident through a man’s chest at the signal of this man, but felt trepidation at looking at his face. He slowly rose his chin, carefully raising his eyes to meet Khan’s.

Jim was absolutely wrong. Khan was right at place among these gladiators and guards. Khan had the face of a soldier, and the eyes of a warrior. Jim told himself that he wasn’t trembling.

“I’ll take him,” Khan said suddenly, breaking his eye contact with Jim to look at the master, “Be reasonable with the price and it will be met. My people will get to you about payment.”

Jim was stunned. Had he just been sold? To the _Emperor_? Impossible. It took a shove from one of the guards to make Jim realize he was meant to follow Khan.    

Once they were around the corner, Khan turned to Jim suddenly, forcing Jim to a sudden stop.

“What is your name, _Retiarius_?” He said, curious blue eyes boring into Jim’s.

“Uh, Jim,” he replied, a slight tremor in his voice. He frowned at himself. Since when did he stutter in the face of a Roman?

“Full name,” Khan said, narrowing his eyes at his new slave.

“James,” Jim said, more firmly this time, “James Tiberius Kirk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: The color purple was a status symbol. The dye was made from some weird, rare snail, so only really rich people could afford to dress in purple things. It was illegal for anyone but the Emperor to wear all purple!
> 
> Luctor et Emergo (I struggle and I emerge)


	2. Timeo Danaos et Dona Ferentes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is brought to the Emperor's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I was planning on publishing this around Friday (so the chapters would be spaced out a bit) but then I got too excited and wrote this anyway. It's longer than the first chapter, and probably more true to how long future chapters will be. Enjoy!

Emperor Khan’s city domus was a grand area to walk by, let alone live in. The courtyards were lovely and well taken care of, the surrounding atrium was decked out in fountains and mosaics, and the kitchens were warm and smelled of fresh bread and spices. Although he had yet to see them, Jim figured that the rest of the estate –the private baths at the back of the compound, the lavish guest rooms, and the emperor’s quarters- would be just as luxurious.

Instead of the grand tour, which Jim had not expected at all, he was immediately brought to a small dining area, obviously for the dining of slaves and servants, if the plain room and wooden table were anything to go by. It still had high windows and a hearth, so it was already better than any insulae he had ever visited.

“Let me through, dammit,” a voice said, somewhere out in the corridor. There were quite a few servants in the eating area, some polite enough not to stare at the gladiator sitting awkwardly in a wooden chair at the table, others not so much. Some spoke in hushed tones, throwing glances his way, while others plainly spoke about him and pointed at the bruises and cuts that littered his body.

He had never really felt self-conscious before, or at least, not about his livelihood. Now he was a little embarrassed to be sitting there, tanned and battered, wearing nothing but a scratchy tunic and a laurel wreath. They had taken away his shoes at the end of the battle.

“Ah, there he is,” the voice from earlier said, this time accompanied by the body of a man, “Well, you’re quite a mess, aren’t you?”

The man was roughly cut, with a scruffy chin and a cloth bag that he laid on the table in front of Jim. He wore a toga –a free man, then- and practical-looking shoes.

“What’re you all standing around for? Don’t you have places to be?” the man said, waving his arms a bit in the direction of the other servants.

His bossy tone and demeanor said upper class, but his worn clothing said servant. A doctor, then.

“What’s your name, gladiator?” the doctor said, fishing bandages and ointments out of his bag and setting them on the table.

“Jim,” he replied flatly. The doctors that typically worked on gladiators weren’t particularly kind, and Jim had suffered quite a bit at their hands. He wasn’t too keen on meeting any new ones.

“Well, Jim,” the doctor said, pulling a stool over towards them and shooing away some of the lingering servants, “I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy. I work around here and live on grounds, ask around if you need me, because I’m always in the area. A place this big wouldn’t survive without a doctor, and this one can’t survive without me.”

He dabbed some sort of sweet-smelling ointment on a cloth and offered his hand out to Jim expectantly. Jim wasn’t sure what to do. He tentatively reached his hand to meet the doctor’s, and Doctor McCoy pulled it taut, and started unceremoniously blotting at the cuts on his arm. A moment of silence meets the pair.

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” the doctor laughed a bit, “You won’t be for long, if the Emperor keeps you around. He doesn’t was a _completely_ silent companion.”

“Companion?” Jim asked, too startled to be shy, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I shouldn’t say companion,” McCoy amended, “More of a private servant. He always has someone waiting on him, but hates hoards of servants fretting about when he’s doing something. He doesn’t like the busyness of it all, especially in the morning, but still wants his meals on time and a partner to play chess with.”

“It sounds like that position’s already filled, then,” Jim said, “There’s no way he’d give that job to someone fresh out of the arena.”

“You’d be surprised.” Doctor McCoy said gravely, “I don’t know what crazy things go on in his head, but he’d give any job to anyone he found interesting. Hell, he plucked me out of the arena to work for him, and I was a kid with nothing but my bones to keep me company.”

“You were in the arena?” Jim said, surprised. The doctor hummed affirmation, wrapping cloth around Jim’s head to cover a wound he didn’t remember getting.

“The Emperor’s a weird guy, but you have to give him credit,” McCoy said after a moment, “He’s got a good eye for people with stories.”

Jim was about to voice his confusion at that last statement when a women walked in. Tall and dark skinned, she walked like a lioness through the elegant archway into the room.

“Bones, Emperor Khan told me to take the gladiator off of your hands. I’m to give him a tour and inform him of his duties,” she said.

“Fine, fine,” McCoy said, “I just finished patching him up, anyway. He’s all yours.”

“If you please,” the woman said to Jim, gesturing for him to stand and walk with her. She wore a clean stola and a nice pair of sandals, so Jim presumed she was a free woman as well. Was he the only servant here without his freedom?

“You’ve seen the atrium and the kitchens, so I’ll take you elsewhere. As I’m sure you’ve been told, you will be serving Emperor Khan directly, so you must be on your best behavior at all times.”

“Whoa, slow down,” Jim said, almost trotting to keep up with the long strides of the woman, “Why the hell am I suddenly the Emperor’s dog?”

“Does it matter?” She said nonchalantly, “You can’t exactly change it. And as his _dog_ , as you so eloquently put it, you’ll have responsibilities. I suggest you pay attention if you want to stay in Emperor Khan’s good favor.”

This was ridiculous. But he heeded her warning.

They went through the kitchen area and servant living quarters, where Jim was informed that he would bring the Emperor his meals when he decided to stay in to eat, rather than dine with senators and governors. He was also informed that he would be living in quarters that were attached to the Emperor’s, but of course, that did not mean that he had any special privileges. If he wanted any of his meals he must be on time to the meals with the rest of the slaves and servants.

The next location on their tour was the bath house. It was larger and roomier than any he had seen before, and while his dark-skinned companion spoke he couldn’t help but marvel at the mosaics on the walls and floors.

“But, of course, the Emperor has his own bathing room, where you will assist him.” She said dryly.

He forced himself not to complain about having to help _bathe_ the Emperor. After all, he was on his best behavior. The next place they visited was the private library, a place where senators of all sorts were roaming around, reading and writing.

“Nyota,” a cool voice said to the pair’s left, “I see you are taking the beast out for a stroll.” A Senator, by the look of his toga, was walking towards them, with pale skin and black hair neatly groomed. Jim bit his tongue and looked down. Starting a fight would not be the best thing to do.

“Senator Spock, what a pleasure,” Nyota said, her tone friendlier than it had been with Jim. Jim looked bewildered at her and then the senator, and then resumed his eye contact with the floor. She was friendly with this guy, but not Jim? Jim thought himself to be quite charming, and was slightly offended.

After a moment’s conversation, Senator Spock left them to their own devices.

“So,” Jim said, “Nyota?” The name felt foreign on his tongue. Maybe this was what Bones had meant when he said that Khan had an eye for people with stories. This woman, Nyota, obviously had an interesting backstory.

“Uhura,” she said firmly, “You will call me Uhura. It is my family name, and you will address me as such.” Alright then, subject dropped.

They continued their journey up the path and towards the Emperor’s quarters. The sun was beginning to set on this ridiculous day, and made its way slowly toward the vast, beautifully sculpted arches that bordered the compound on the west side. He had learned that he was nothing more than another servant to the Emperor, but one that works mostly alone. He’d bring Khan his meals and whatever else he asked for. Pretty simple, really.

Jim was utterly flabbergasted about the whole idea. He was used to battling starved tigers, not making beds and sweeping floors. He would easily stab a man for the Emperor, but was charged with bringing him meals instead! It was preposterous. It was confusing. It was something that Jim never even imagined himself doing, not after he was sold to Consilius. Not after he was a gladiator.

Suddenly Jim was stopped in his tracks. They couldn’t be far from the Emperor’s rooms, so why had Uhura stopped them?

“Listen to me, Jim,” she said, her voice perhaps less icy than before. Maybe even a little sympathetic? “Khan is the Emperor, and you must not refuse him a single command. For your own benefit, at least.” She pursed her lips and turned around, proceeding to walk briskly towards the Emperor’s quarters.

What had she meant by that? Would Khan give some ridiculous request? Something that Jim wouldn’t want to do? _Surely there is nothing that I would not do,_ Jim thought, _Hell, I’ve already killed men for him. What could possibly be worse than that?_

They arrived at a small atrium, with a marble fish pond at its center. Looking into it, Jim saw a breathtaking mosaic of a being that could only be Neptune, blocked here and there by fat, bright orange fish. The atrium was headed by a steep wooden door, with carvings spattered across it.

To the right of the door hung a tapestry, all in blues and purples with a saying etched carefully at its top: “ _Vivere commune est, sed non commune mereri.”_

Jim swallowed, looking at it, and said, “Everybody lives, not everyone deserves to _._ ” His voice sounded too loud in the silence of the halls.

“You can read,” Uhura said, surprised, “That’s good. Perhaps it will give you some value.” Jim finished that sentence in his head: _when the Emperor inevitably sells you._ Bewilderment to his situation had suddenly turned into dread. There would be nothing to stop Khan from selling Jim back into the gladiator game if he were to displease him.

Uhura knocked on the door. A chilling “Enter,” was heard. They stepped into the room.

It was beautiful. The room they stepped into was another atrium of sorts, more of a sitting room, with a sculpture of Romulus, Remus, and the she-wolf at its center. Another perfectly done mosaic covered the entirety of the floor, in riveting hues of purple and scarlet. Ornate bookcases, antique vases, and tables decked with bouquets of orchids and roses lined the walls where somewhat overstuffed chaise lounges didn’t.

The Emperor reclined easily on one couch, draped in different fabrics from earlier that day, holding a goblet of something ruby-red in one hand and an ancient-looking book in the other. Without looking up, he beckoned Uhura and Jim to approach him.

“Nyota, you are dismissed,” he said, flipping a page in his book.

“Of course, sir,” Uhura said, nodding her head in a respective bow before heading out the way they came in.

Jim stood there, in front of the Emperor, arms placed respectfully behind his back and his eyes glued to the ground.

 He figured this was just another arena; a lion’s den with a beast that showed no signs of attacking, but was obviously powerful beyond compare. He suddenly wished that he had asked Uhura more about the Emperor himself, rather than simply the duties he was to uphold. But hey, _Sero in periculis est consilium quaerere._ It’s too late to ask for advice when the danger comes. J

“James Tiberius Kirk,” Khan drawled out, looking up from his book to gaze at his slave, “Tiberius is a name that I am familiar with. However, James is not a name I have heard spoken in Rome.”

Jim swallowed, willing his heartbeat to slow itself. The same, strange feeling of intimidation from before was enveloping him, but he was more puzzled then afraid.

“My mother hailed from Britannia, my lord,” Jim replied, daring to look up as he said it, “She gave me my first name, and I chose to keep her family name.”

“And who was Tiberius?”

“My father’s father. They were both Roman soldiers.” Jim said stiffly. He didn’t like to be interrogated. Especially about something so controversial.

“Ah, I see,” Khan said, head tilting to the side curiously, “It explains your features, at least.” Jim had no idea how to respond to something like that. So he nodded. Albeit a little bit awkwardly.

“Come,” Khan said, gracefully standing from the couch and walking briskly towards a door on the far end of a hallway that branched off of the sitting room.

“This is my bedroom,” he said, stopping in front of it and turning to face Jim, “My study and bath can be reached through it. You will not enter my study unless invited, but may enter my bedroom when your duties require it.”

He began walking again, more slowly, down the hallway they had just gone through. The walls were decorated with intricate frescos and tapestries and a few tables with vases on them stood outside of doorways. Khan stopped in front of a smaller, less decorated door.

“This is where you shall stay, what you find in here is yours, but anything broken will not be replaced. Trek wisely.” Jim found himself looking at Khan’s face, with its high, defined cheekbones and creamy, pale skin. The way his mouth moved around words –like he was creating art with his voice- made Jim feel that same insecure, intimidated feeling.

It was boggling. Boggling to the point that Jim stopped forcing his eyes to remain on the marble floor.

“There are other rooms, as you can see, but I will not tire myself with showing them to you. You will learn, you will adapt, and you will serve,” Khan said effortlessly. He showed no sign of threatening Jim, but Jim felt threatened nonetheless.

“Yes, my lord,” Jim said with a nod, realizing slightly too late that Khan had expected an answer.

“For now, though,” Khan said, “Assist in dressing me for bed.” He turned and began walking back up the hallway, not even glancing to see if Jim was following.

Jim shouldn’t have been so surprised at the command –after all, Uhura had told him that he was to help dress, undress, bathe, and even feed this man- but it was stunning that a man as regal as Khan would ask for such assistance. He reeked of self-sufficiency, especially with the detail of having virtually no serving staff in his close living quarters.

So, Jim decided, it must be a test. The Emperor was obviously not naïve, and had no intent of trusting Jim to the fullest extent. So he was seeing how obedient and quick-witted he was. Khan had been exploring Jim’s personality while Jim was exploring his, and Jim hadn’t noticed until this exact moment.

He refused to disappoint. A test is a challenge, and the Roman blood coursing through his veins refused to let him back down.

He followed his new master quickly, making sure to not let his bare feet slap against the marble.

Khan’s bedroom was magnificent, as only an Emperor’s bedroom would be. The bed was large and covered in blankets and pillows, the rug under Jim’s feet was plush and soft, and every decoration looked like something that Jim would be crucified for breaking.

His eyes met Khan’s. Khan’s blue eyes hinted at amusement as he saw Jim take everything in, and Jim felt the most preposterous feeling of embarrassment. To rid himself of this feeling he stepped forward, and tentatively began stripping the linens from Khan’s body.

All the while Khan had his eyes on Jim. Jim couldn’t imagine why. Was he searching for a shadow of treachery? Surely not; Jim wouldn’t pick a fight with the Emperor, especially after the man had plucked him from a life of fighting and killing. Jim laid the fabrics over a chair near them, so he could pick them up on his way out of the room.

He came back to Khan with a new tunic draped over one arm to see that Khan had already stripped himself of his daily one. Surprise was bit back by a rush of that same feeling of intimidation –or whatever it was- hit him full in the face.

Khan had a very nice torso. It was pale and smooth, but a few battle scars adorned his upper chest. One even travelled over his shoulder. Jim found himself staring for a moment too long and then hurriedly went to Khan and pulled the fresh tunic over his master’s head.

Before Jim could back away, Khan grabbed him by the wrist. Jim stood stock-still, eyes a bit too wide and heart beating a bit too fast. With his other hand, Khan gingerly touched the bandage that covered Jim’s forehead. He looked thoughtful.

“You fought well today, James,” Khan said, drawing his arm back and letting Jim’s wrist slip from his grasp.

“Thank you, my lord,” Jim said uncertainly. Khan furrowed his eyebrows.

“Every slave I have ever purchased has resorted to calling me ‘master’ at first meeting. You do not,” he said.

“If you’d prefer-”

“No, I do not particularly dislike it, but I wonder at the cause,” Khan said, brushing off Jim’s predictable statement with a flick of his wrist.

“Well, do you typically buy a gladiator at a moment’s notice?” Jim said in a moment of annoyance at being cut off, “I am not exactly every slave you’ve ever bought.”

Khan’s look of part intrigue and part offense was certainly frightening for a man under his thumb, but Jim took it in stride. He would not be broken of his warrior ways so soon, if dignity meant anything at all.

“You are dismissed, James,” Khan said, “For the night, if you wish it.”

Surprised by his sudden dismissal, Jim found himself even more annoyed. A trickle of fear went down his spine. Had he said something wrong? Damn his wild tongue!

“I will see you in the morning, of course,” Khan added, as Jim approached the door. Then, as an afterthought, “I have no doubt that I can break your will, James,” Jim looked at him, surprised and cautious, but the Emperor was already turned away from him, “even the mighty have fallen before me.”

Jim was sure that Khan hadn’t seen his shudder. He couldn’t have; the Emperor’s attention was no longer on him. But why did it feel as though he was being scrutinized anyway?

~o~

Later that night, Jim laid in a bed that was his own, in a room belonging to him. It was different, and frightening, but the pleasure of such simple luxuries overwhelmed him. He would rather be in this place, or a room with the other servants, or even on the floor, next to the Emperor’s grand bed, than the cold barracks he had been residing in before.

But still, Khan’s words echoed in his head: “ _Even the mighty have fallen before me._ ” Suddenly a thought crossed Jim’s mind: Khan had no reason to trust him. Yet, here Jim was, mere doorways away from the sleeping Emperor, unguarded and free to do whatever he pleased. Right?

He stood from his bed and crossed over to the door. He wouldn’t harm the Emperor –that’d be suicide- but he wanted to see if the Emperor was really crazy enough to leave him to his own devices. Slowly, carefully, he turned the handle and pulled the door towards himself. Sure enough, outside his door stood two guards, armed to the teeth. That told him what he needed to know.

He shut the door quietly and crept back to bed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: Roman Emperor's often had two (or more) homes: one in the city, for business and stuff, and one in the country, with fresh air and space to relax. This is much different than the civilians in Ancient Rome, who were usually crammed in tiny apartment buildings called insulae that made up city blocks. Insulae is Latin for island, because they were islands in the sea of the city!
> 
> Timeo Danaos et Dona Ferentes (Beware of Greeks bearing gifts)


	3. Modus Omnibus in Rebus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets embarrassed like three times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment of my ancient rome au! <33 A huge thank you for everybody who commented!!

Jim woke covered in sweat, a scream building in the back of his throat. He didn’t know where he was, how he got there, but he had to _get it off_. He felt it –smelled it, tasted it- all over him; _blood._ He hurled himself from the bed and tumbled to the water basin on the other side of the room. _He had to get it off, it was all over him, drying and cracking-_

He came back to himself scrubbing ruthlessly at his arms, suddenly aware that there was no blood, no sign of it ever being there. He slumped, leaning himself against the wall, heaving a big sigh. It was just a dream, then. He was fine, he was safe. He looked down at his hands and arms, rubbed red and raw. Ouch.

Wincing, he shoved himself off of the wall, and began his usual morning rituals, trying to shake off the shudders and paranoia that the nightmare had left behind. It wasn’t anything new, he could deal with it. It’d be fine. He was fine.

Once he was dressed in a clean tunic, he exited the small room, heading the way of the main atrium to the Emperor’s private building. He noted that the guards once stationed at his door were standing stoically outside his new master’s. He continued on his way, trying not to look at them. Briskly walking around the fish pond, he made to exit, in search of his master’s breakfast. To his surprise, it met him at the doorway of the atrium, in the form of a blonde-headed girl, holding a decadent tray.

“Hello, James Kirk, is it?” she said cheerily, handing him the tray and taking off the silver cover that kept the food from cooling, “I do hope you weren’t planning on going to the kitchens. Servant’s breakfast ended an hour ago and you do have your duties to attend to.”

 _Well that’s a little disappointing,_ Jim thought. His stomach rumbled in agreement. But he took the tray without complaint, giving the blonde servant a tentative smile. She promptly turned heel and strode away, practically emanating confidence. Would Jim get so confident in his work, if he stayed in this strange place?

“Uh, thanks,” he called after her, a little belatedly. He brought the tray inside and walked down the hallways, taking a moment to appreciate the meal he was charged with delivering. Meats, breads, and cheeses all littered the plate, along with a glass of strong-smelling wine and orange juice. A breakfast fit for a king. Jim’s mouth watered.

Before any time at all, he approached the Emperor’s chambers. The guards stepped aside without a word, one even knocking on the door for him, as his hands were full. A muffled voice said something inside. And then louder: “Enter.”

A guard opened the door for Jim. He walked inside, only to stop for a moment in surprise. In the bed, pressed close to the Emperor was a beautiful –and very _naked_ \- girl. Jim felt his face go a little hot as he stammered, averting his eyes and turning his head away.

“I can definitely come back later-”

“No need, James,” The Emperor said, with something akin to amusement in his voice. He said something to the girl in a quiet tone, grinning when she blushed and looked away.

Jim was, to be frank, quite offended. He was used to being treated as lower than dirt as a gladiator, but now as a slave for the Emperor, his status was lowered to the point where even privacy didn’t apply to him.

“Bring me my breakfast, child,” Khan snapped at Jim as the girl crawled out of the bed, pulling on a beige stola. She gave a flirty wave to the Emperor and left. Jim’s flush darkened at Khan’s words; he was no child. And to be addressed as such was demeaning, even for Jim, who had done more than a few belittling things at his former masters’ wills. But he had learned from them: biting his tongue now would save himself from pain later.

“Yes, master,” Jim said, eyes fixed low as he brought the meal forward. The bed smelled like sex and sweat. The Emperor’s eyes seemed to burn into him, following his every move.

Khan’s hands reached out and took the tray, settling it down onto his lap. Jim took a step back, prepared to ask if the Emperor needed anything else. Before he could, the Emperor cut him off.

“You seem a little, oh what’s the word,” Khan said leisurely, cutting into his eggs with a fork, eyes trained on Jim, “flustered. Is there a problem, _child_?” He emphasized the last word as a popped a bite into his mouth. Jim stood stock still, willing himself not to say anything he would regret, but this man was grinding on his nerves.

“I assure you, master, that there is no problem,” Jim said, practically through gritted teeth. He _hated_ being called “child.” Jim had not been a child for a very long time.

“Well,” Khan said, “You’ve addressed me as “master,” which as we’ve discussed, is not something you typically do. I can only assume that something is amiss. Whatever could it be?”

The man was mocking him. Khan was taking Jim’s obvious discomfort at seeing his master’s _conquest_ and using it to amuse himself. He was pushing Jim’s buttons to see just how far his control would go.

“Nothing, master,” Jim ground out, daring his gaze to flick up and meet Khan’s and back down to the carpet. How could this man get under his skin like this, with so few words spoken?

“In that case,” Khan said around a mouthful of bread, “Draw me a hot bath while I eat.” His gaze turned to disinterested as he reached for his wine glass.

Without any time for Khan to decide otherwise, Jim was through the bathroom door, breathing a sigh of relief when the door shut behind him. He took a moment to lean against the door, willing his heart rate to go down, while at the same time wondering what set it off in the first place.

The bathroom was just as grand as the bedroom, with sheer curtains that kept the bathroom shielded from outside viewers, but let in the bright light from the rising sun. The bathtub was sunken into the tiles, with marble steps leading into it.

Jim had never actually seen an in-home bath before. After all, he’d never had a master wealthy enough to afford the taxing, lead pipes that brought in water. Most of his former masters would go to the local bathhouses.

Shrugging, he started the bath up, filling the basin with hot water. As it filled, he thumbed through the different bath oils and salts, picking a few out to make the bath’s aroma soft and inviting. He then located the towels and placed them on a cool, stone bench that stood against the wall.

As Jim shut off the faucets, he heard the door open behind him. He stood quickly, turning to face his master. The second he looked up his face flushed considerably; Khan was strolling towards the bath without a thread of clothing on his muscular body.

Suddenly the tiles beneath Jim’s feet became very interesting, in his effort to not look at his master’s body.

“You’ll be staying to aid me, James,” Khan said, a crocodile’s smile decorating his face.

Aiding him? Helping him _bathe?_ Jim just couldn’t figure this guy out. What made Khan think that Jim had any idea how to behave like a house slave when every master he’d ever had either made him fight or made him do hard, manual labor. He’d never helped a Roman _bathe_ in his entire life!

“Yes, master.” Jim said, unable to keep a hint of vexation out of his voice. He moved to grab a cloth from the bench.

“Good,” Khan said, slipping himself into the bath, “Strip then, and join me.” Jim nearly tripped over his own feet. Khan never ceased to surprise him.

It was a simple order. Just get undressed, and join the Emperor in the bath. And Jim was having a really tough time obeying him. He stood dumbly for a moment, staring at the Emperor.

“Now, child, I won’t tell you again.” Khan said firmly. Jim bristled, staring incredulously at this infuriating man, who had leaned back in the bath and closed his eyes.

“Alright,” Jim said, exasperated, adding belatedly, “master.”

He gingerly pulled his tunic over his head, careful of the scrapes that still resided there, no longer covered by bandages. Soon he was just as bare as his master, and was lowering himself into the bath as well. He sunk down next to Khan, kneeling so as to not appear at leisure.

Giving him a single, dissecting glance, Khan turned so his naked back was turned toward Jim. Taking this as his cue to begin, Jim lathered the cloth he held with soap and started carefully washing his master’s back. His knees scraped at the bottom of the bath, the water deep enough that it lapped at his chest.

It was an odd feeling. The warm water and soothing steam were forcing Jim to relax, and as he relaxed, his mind began to drift. Khan’s back had a few, faint scars racing up and down his shoulders and spine, the tissue lighter than it should be. Feigning washing it, Jim ran his hand across a scar that reached over Khan’s right shoulder and onto his chest. Khan shuddered ever so slightly.

There were other marks there as well. Slight, red lines from fingernails, no doubt from the woman who had shared his bed. Jim felt the strangest feeling of anger towards her, hating that she had marked him so visibly. He ran his fingers across those, too.

He snapped out his daze at the sound of his master’s voice.

“Your hands do wander, James,” Khan said quietly, his head turned slightly to see Jim out of the corner of his eye, “I can guess that your eyes do as well.”

“I- uh,” Jim stammered, “I apologize, master.”

“Do you?” Khan said, twisting so his back was leaning against the bath’s wall, smirk on his bowed lips.

Licking his own lips involuntarily, Jim muttered out a “Yes.”

Jim was still kneeling next to Khan, who sat like a king would: legs splayed and open, posture relaxed and confident. He was pale, and scarred, and Jim felt such confusion even looking at this man. This man who had saved him from fighting. Who had switched his life around from dangerous to docile with a snap of his elegant fingers.

Jim’s knees were beginning to ache from being braced against the floor of the tub. But he didn’t dare move. Instead, he fixed his eyes on Khan’s face, suddenly not so happy with casting his gaze downward.

Jim’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, and he was suddenly struggling to relax, despite the warm water and welcoming scents. The Emperor’s self-assured posture and predatory gaze reminded Jim of one thing: Jim was his, and the older man could do with him whatever he pleased. It was a lesson he would not forget, as he had learned it the hard way long ago.

Khan reached up slowly, his hand brushing against Jim’s face, a look of interest adorning his features. Jim tensed up at the touch, focusing on breathing evenly. Khan’s thumb brushed against Jim’s cheek, fingers sliding over parts of his hair, before drawing his hand back. Something had changed in Khan’s expression when he saw that slightest hint of fear in Jim’s eyes.

Jim was afraid when he fought. Jim was afraid when he was all alone, in the barracks, laying there wondering how many more fights he would survive. But during those instances, nobody was there to see him be afraid, and that was exactly as he wanted it to be. He had never been afraid of a master when these sort of things were happening, if anything, he just felt angry or empty. So Jim’s fear made him feel disgusted with himself, especially because Khan so obviously saw it.

But why hadn’t he said anything about it? Jim knew that Khan was the type to gloat, the type to use fear and intimidation against another person.

Yet he simply looked away, and stood up, suddenly. Instinctively, Jim stood with him, and followed him out of the bath. Jim translated his master’s sudden disinterest to some sort of anger or disappointment, caused by something Jim didn’t know. To make up for it, he grabbed the towel off of the bench and draped it around his master, making a point to show him that Jim wasn’t too proud for the task, and most certainly wasn’t afraid.

Khan’s returned, amused smile told Jim that his efforts were not wasted, and he followed his master out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, grabbing his tunic and tugging it on as he walked.

Khan was already dressing himself when Jim appeared, pulling loose-fitting scarlet fabrics around his lean body.

“I have a lot of work to do, James,” Khan said, tying a sash around his waist, “You shall stay with me while I work.”

He followed Khan into the study, feeling a bit lost as to why Khan was demanding his total attention. Wasn’t it more efficient to send him on errands or giving him jobs? He entered the study. As predicted, it was just as magnificent, if not more, than the bedroom and bathroom. Khan sat at a desk that was littered with papers, scrolls, and various pots of ink and fine-tipped pens.

Jim stood for a moment, not really sure what to do. Did the Emperor want him to do something? His master was frustrating in his brevity.

“Sit,” Khan said, not looking up from his papers. Jim looked at the lavish chairs across from the desk. Surely Jim would not be permitted there, where senators and ambassadors sat? Struggling, Jim opted to pluck up the courage and ask.

“Where would you like me to sit, my lord,” Jim asked evenly.

“At my feet, of course, James,” Khan said, peering over a sheet of parchment to see his reaction. Jim looked at him incredulously. Surely he hadn’t just said that. Jim must have misheard. But he hadn’t. Infuriated, he stood a little straighter, looking at Khan with his offense unmistakable in his gaze.

“I can’t sit on the ground,” Jim said stubbornly, “It’s demeaning.”

“You will anyway, though,” Khan replied, “Because I told you to.”

“I’m not a dog,” Jim said, persistent gaze burning.

“Of course you are,” Khan said, humor starting to be lost in his voice, “You’re a mutt that I brought into a household where only purebreds are accepted. End of discussion.” A moment passed, and Jim was still standing.

“Sit,” Khan ordered. The amusement had faded into annoyance. With a frustrated sigh Khan stood up from the desk and looked Jim hard in the eye.

“Do you truly want to disobey me, James? Because I can promise that you will regret it if you do,” He grabbed Jim by the hair and pulled him closer to the desk. Instead of an answer, Jim sank down to sit on the ground by the chair, forcing Khan to release his hold of his hair.

“There,” Khan’s cool, relaxed tone had returned, “That wasn’t so hard.”

Jim fumed silently from his place on the ground.

He sat at the Emperor’s feet for nearly an hour, legs numb, neck stiff, and eyes drooping ever so slightly. His place at his master’s feet was uncomfortable and boring, and he was pretty sick of playing pooch for this man.

Once again, Jim’s mind wandered. What had happened in the bath this morning? Khan, touching his face, almost tenderly, but not moving any further. Jim wasn’t stupid –he knew how this job worked. He had had masters that would _visit_ him in the dead of night, with touches that feigned affection. He wasn’t naïve, either, with the power that Khan had, the Emperor could do anything to him, and he would just have to deal with it.

He didn’t understand it. Khan could have taken him right there, right then and Jim wouldn’t have even fought back. But it wasn’t as though Khan was a particularly kind master, as he had easily yanked Jim around by the hair.

How very strange indeed.

A hand found its way into Jim’s hair. Jim folded his own into his lap, feeling a tad less angry at being treated like a dog, if only because he was so drowsy. The Emperor’s long, pale fingers wound their way through his blonde locks aimlessly, mind obviously focused on whatever it was he was working with on the desk.

Refusing to see it as a sign of weakness or surrender, and assuring himself it was just out of weariness, Jim leaned himself against Khan’s leg. His head rested against Khan’s knee, eyes shut, emitting the quietest of sighs.

He didn’t notice Khan’s glance down at him, and certainly didn’t see the smile that rested on those strange, bowed lips.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman fact of the Day: Free, wealthy Roman citizens, when their teeth began to get gross and rot, would have teeth pulled from their slaves' mouths to make real-human-teeth dentures!
> 
> Modus Omnibus in Rebus ([Know] Limit in All Things)


	4. Revocate Animos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that teeth thing I told you guys about? Yeah. Sorry.
> 
> slightest blood/gore warning, btw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Thanks for all those kudos, bookmarks, and comments!! I can assure you, encouragement makes me write faster!

In the courtyard between the kitchens and Khan’s own private building, there was a fountain carved from white stone against a wall, framed by tall trees. It depicted a great lion; the water pouring from its open mouth into the draining pool below. It was tapped into an underground water source, so the water was always refreshingly cool, especially on hot, summer days in Rome.

The shade of the trees attracted many visitors to the fountain, and the servants who brought their master’s water from it tended to linger there for as long as they dared. The families of the visiting Senators tended to appear near the fountain as well, if only to appreciate the aesthetics of the garden surrounding it.

Jim found the spot a few days after arriving to his new home, aided by his new friend, Doctor McCoy, who was called “Bones” by the rest of the serving staff. He had run into him after Khan sent him for fresh water, and Bones had helped him on his way.

Pitcher in hand, Jim had followed Bones to the fountain.

“Oh man,” Jim said, stepping through the trees to the tiny square, which was already crowded with people. Servants stood by the fountain itself, some with pitchers like Jim’s, others seemingly taking a break. A senator sat on a bench on the other side, complaining of one ache or another, reminding Jim of Khan with the way he sat: spread out and open, like he owned the whole world.

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice,” Bones said, giving a weary glance toward the complaining senator, “I better go see what Hostilius Secundus is whining about. I’d get moving if I were you, the Emperor hates waiting.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out,” Jim said, laughing and clapping Bones on the back as he walked away.

Jim approached the fountain, noting how the group of four or five servants next to it fell silent as he walked forward. He gave a tentative smile.

“Hey,” one called, getting his attention, “You’re the Emperor’s new plaything, right?”  He was a shorter fellow, with wayward black hair. He laughed obnoxiously at his own comment.  

“Not exactly, no,” Jim laughed back, trying his hardest to seem lighthearted. It was better to just let them have their laughs, right?

“Well,” said another, this one tall and willowy, “You won’t be with him for long, if history has anything to say.”

“I’m not-” Jim started. What did that mean?

“I heard the last one hurled himself off a cliff,” a girl said, peering at Jim with judgment-filled eyes.”

“I don’t-” Jim tried again. The whole argument was really ruffling his feathers, and making him a little insecure about his new position as Khan’s right-hand man.

“Don’t be silly, Secunda,” another girl said, “Khan obviously pushed him. Or threw him. I’ve heard he has inhuman strength.”

“And you’d know, wouldn’t you, Prima?”

“I’m nobody’s plaything,” Jim interjected, pushing the pitcher under the steady stream of water, trying to seem nonchalant, when on the inside, he was definitely not happy.

“Well, sure, _you’d_ say that, but Khan always-”

“Guys, shut up,” the girl, Secunda, said, gaze casted towards the group of senators and Bones. The servants fell silent. They all looked in the same direction, but Jim had to shoulder his way through to the side to get a good look.

The complaining senator, whom Bones had gone to see to, was now on his feet, one hand gesturing wildly towards Bones as he spoke, and one hand pressing a cloth to his cheek and mouth. Looking closer, Jim realized it was swollen and bleeding. They were both speaking loudly, arguing. Apparently, the senator had just had two teeth pulled, and was demanding Bones to give him two new ones.

The senator suddenly turned tail and started walking angrily towards the group of servants, now completely silent and more than a little afraid. One of the younger boys sidestepped into the garden and jogged away.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bones said, right on the angry senator’s heels, “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever it is I _wish_ , Doctor,” the senator spat, words slightly muffled by the cloth and his own swollen cheek, “And I _refuse_ to go about my days missing _teeth._ I am a senator, and I will be respected as such!”

He slowed to a stop in front of the servants, who had dropped their heads in respect. Jim paled. He’d seen this before; a higher-up needed new teeth, and a slave was just the thing to give them to him. It was another part of Roman life that Jim despised, although he was lucky enough to escape such a fate. So far.  

The servant that separated Jim from the Senator stepped back in fear, and suddenly Jim felt too exposed to the senator’s madness, too close to the fuming man. He knew what was going to happen the second the senator made eye contact with him.

“You,” he said gruffly, grabbing Jim by the hair, just like Khan had done mere days before. The surrounding senators and Bones objected loudly, covering up the frightened sound that escaped Jim’s mouth. He held his breath and steeled his nerves, giving a pained look towards Bones as he tried to keep his balance. The pitcher fell to the ground with a crash, flooding Jim’s bare feet with icy water.

“This is insane,” Bones yelled, “This is neither the time nor place to- Let go of him!”

But the senator refused to listen. Instead, he dragged Jim away from the others. Jim was panicking, but knew that he _could not fight back._ The senator smelled like blood and alcohol, Jim’s scalp was aching from being agitated, but all he could think was _Khan’s going to kill me for breaking that pitcher._ And if he fought back –and won, because this senator really had no match to the once-gladiator’s strength- Khan would sentence him to death for attacking a member of the senate. Or even worse; Khan might send him to Rome’s impressive navy, where he would be chained to a bench, living out his days rowing with a hundred other slaves to keep the ships faster than any other’s.

Before Jim knew what was happening he was braced against a tree, the senator’s forearm on his throat and opposite hand on his face, inspecting his teeth like Jim was a prize show horse. Jim’s heart was beating a mile a minute.

“This’ll do,” the senator said, under his breath, and then more loudly, “Somebody hand me the pliers.” Oh gods, he was going to lose his teeth. Would it hurt? He hoped to God –to the Roman’s gods- that the adrenaline spiking through his veins would dull the pain!

“No, you can’t-” that was Bones. But what could the doctor do? The senator had enough power to do this, to _hurt_ Jim in any way!

“Stop, please-” another voice said. It was hopeless, _oh gods._

Metal was being shoved between his teeth, cutting the side of his mouth, rough hands prying his mouth open. _No!_ He thought, aggressively trying to rid himself of the senator, in a last fight-or-flight instinct, but the man had him choking against the tree, splayed in an angle that gave him no advantage. He tasted blood, _blood, he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t do this-_

“Enough!” A voice boomed, loud enough to freeze time itself. The weight of the senator disappeared, and Jim slid ungracefully to the ground, opening eyes that he didn’t realize he had closed.

There, in front of him, stood Khan, looking like a god in his white and scarlet robes, facing the senator who had tried to take Jim’s teeth. The senator looked just as stunned as Jim felt, the metal tool in his hand covered in blood from Jim’s cut cheek.

“My lord,” The senator said, voice shaking and sounding full of pain from his own mouth, “I-”

Khan, with a stare of pure ice, held up a hand to silence him, effectively cutting off his next few words. Jim swallowed and felt sick; there was a lot of blood in his mouth. He slowly turned his gaze from Khan to Bones, who stood by, pale and obviously alarmed. He met Jim’s eye and gave him an exasperated look. The entire grove was dead silent.

“Do not take,” Khan said, authority and menace staining his words, “what is mine.” Jim’s gaze snapped back to Khan, questioning look on his face.

Without even a glance down, Khan grabbed Jim by the arm and jerked him forward and up off the ground, dragging him out of the grove. The world was spinning around him; colors blurring and hushed whispers clogging his ears. Jim winced as his bare feet came down on bits of the pitcher that were still strewn upon the ground.

They arrived back at Khan’s private building, where Khan pulled Jim through the door and straight into the bedroom and then the bathroom, where he sat him down unceremoniously on the bench and leaned over him. He forced Jim’s head upwards with those long, pale fingers, now stained with Jim’s blood. A wild look decorated his face, one that Jim couldn’t quite place. Not that he was even paying attention to that.

He felt dizzy from the taste of his own blood, and found himself shaking and sweaty, like he was every time he woke from another nightmare. He could feel himself shaking violently. He shut his eyes as a thick wave of nausea invaded his senses. At this point, the pain from his mouth was dulled; the terror of all that _blood_ had replaced it. He thought that it was over. That he didn’t have to fight anymore.

“ _James._ James, you need to look at me,” the Emperor rumbled, eyes still shining with something that Jim just couldn’t figure out. He was shaking horribly –or, no, he was being shaken. The Emperor was shaking him none-too-gently by both shoulders. He opened his eyes, his breath catching as his gaze focused on Khan.

“James,” Khan’s face became less blurry, but he looked…different. The voice that Jim heard did not belong to Khan, and most certainly did not match the way his lips were moving, “ _Quidam timore mortis mortem orabant.”_ Jim froze, snapping to attention. He had heard those words before; _some, through fear of death, prayed to die._ No, no no-

“What did you-” Jim spluttered, “What did you say?”

“I said,” Khan said slowly, his appearance back to normal, “Open your mouth, I need to assess the damage that was done. You’re losing a lot of blood.” Oh. He did as told, opening his mouth and looking up at Khan, who towered over Jim’s slouched form.

Khan’s fingers travelled past his lips, cruising along Jim’s teeth, checking for the telling gaps that would be there if the senator had been successful with his intent. Finding none, Khan let out a breath, withdrawing his hand and grabbing a cloth, pressing it to Jim’s mouth as he sat down beside his slave, another emotion showing that Jim didn’t understand. Relief.

Slowly, the world came back to Jim, making him realize more where he was and how he had acted. How he had imagined the words of his mother, spilling from his master’s mouth. As the strongest tastes of blood disappeared, his head cleared.

Jim moved the cloth from his mouth to speak, hands still shaking slightly, “I apologize for the mess, sir, and I promise to replace the pitcher. I just-”

“Do not apologize, I should have arrived sooner.” There was relief still in Khan’s voice. And Emperor, concerned for his slave? Jim couldn’t help but wheeze a laugh through the cloth, wincing a little.

“Have I missed something amusing, James?” Khan said, annoyance and genuine confusion in his tone.

“No, no,” Jim said, “It’s just, well, it takes a lot more than a pompous senator with a pair of pliers to break me down. I’ve faced much worse,” he turned to look at Khan, charming gleam in his eye, “usually with a much less noble doctor caring for me afterwards.”

Apparently, the older man couldn’t help it. Khan cracked a smile at Jim, giving his own breathy laugh at the situation. Jim was startled by it; it was so human, so easy and soft, that the man who stood barking orders and ruling Rome seemed a million miles away. And the ruler was replaced with this laughing man with Jim’s blood staining his hands and bowed lips that curved so wonderfully-

Jim looked away, turning the cloth so a clean portion tended to his wound, feeling his face grow warm. The blood in his mouth must have finally reached his stomach, because he felt a fluttering feeling blooming right under his heart. He pushed it away and looked back at the Emperor, who had stood, leisurely walking to a water basin and washing his hands, his normal, proud walk set back into place.

“I’ll have Nyota bring you a new tunic, it would be a fright to have you continue wearing that one,” Khan called over his shoulder. Jim looked down. Right. Bloodstains. Not the prettiest sight to see.

“Yes, master,” Jim said reflexively, plucking at the tunic a bit, suddenly uncomfortable. The smell and taste of the blood had yet to fade, and Jim honestly feared a whole new onslaught of nightmares that the incident would produce. He sighed.

As if reading his mind, Khan gestured to the basin with one hand and said, “Please, come and wash,” his lips quirked up a bit, lightening the mood, “You look like death, I’m embarrassed for you.”

Jim chuckled, before getting up. With this sudden change in attitude, he was actually growing fond of- _ouch_. He looked down, only to see a bit more blood. His feet, from treading on the broken pitcher. He must not have registered the pain before, too distracted by his mouth, the blood, and the Emperor. He sat back down on the bench, lifting his right foot onto the opposite knee to examine it.

Wincing, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, master, I should probably clean this,” he looked sheepish, “I must have stepped on the pitcher.”

He got most of the glass out of his foot after a few minutes, almost too busy with it to notice the Emperor getting a bowl and a cloth until he sat it next to the slave.

“I-” Jim said, a little at loss, “Thank you, my lord.”

“Do not expect this again,” Khan said, his voice reflecting the strictness that Jim was more familiar with. He added, “Next time, I’ll allow the senator to take your teeth.”

Jim couldn’t stop himself as Khan walked towards the door, “No you won’t, sir, you’d miss my charm far too much.”

Khan scoffed and said, “Fine, I won’t allow it,” he went through the door, pausing to look at Jim amusement twinkling in his eye, “Perhaps I’ll take them myself.” The door shut behind him, leaving a laughing Jim to clean and dress his wounds in peace. He leaned back tiredly, staring in wonder at the place where the Emperor had stood only moments before.

That was the man that bought him not to fight, but to serve. The man who stationed guards outside his doors, but turned his vulnerable back to him in the bathtub. The man who sneered and made Jim sit at his feet, but saved him from a crazed senator’s violent actions. Who distracted him with lovely lips and breathtaking laughter.

The man who was able to bring him back to reality after Jim had succumbed to the scent and taste of blood; a bout of madness that had Jim's head spinning and heart wrenching in fear. How had the Emperor kept him sane? Why did Jim's heart react to the man so strangely? 

_What the hell was happening to him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: The ancient Romans invented tic-tac-toe! (This one won't be story relevant... but the next one might ;))
> 
> Revocate Animos (Recover Your Courage)


	5. Cineri Gloria Sera Venit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim should really learn to bite his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! Sorry this ones a little later than the others have been; I just really wanted to get this chapter right, and ended up rewriting it a half a dozen times. thanks for every kudos, bookmark, and comment! Enjoy the new chapter!

The day started out wonderful. That is, it was the one morning in a line of six or so that Jim didn’t wake up nearly screaming and covered in sweat, completely submerged in a nightmare. Instead, he woke up slowly, the sky still dark, with fresh air moving through his quarters. He ran to the kitchens and had breakfast with Bones, swapping gossip and laughing about nothing, readying himself for another day with the Emperor.

By the time the sun rolled up, and he was heading to Khan’s bedroom to give him his breakfast, Jim was downright cheerful. Leave it to the Emperor to ruin his good mood.

“Oh, _Khan,_ ” a voice from inside the bedroom said, high-pitched and sickly sweet, “Don’t get up _now,_ I’m still tired!”

The familiar voice of Khan answered her with words just out of reach to be heard by Jim, who was standing in front of the door. Really? Another girl to be led away in the morning? Jim blamed the twisting feeling in his gut on irritation, or exasperation. He wasn’t jealous. That’s silly.

Shifting the breakfast tray to balance on one hand, he knocked curtly on the door, interrupting something the newest conquest was saying. Good.

“Enter,” said Khan.

He shouldered his way through the door, not looking at the woman lounging languidly on the bed or at his master, whose back was to him anyway, looking for something on a desk. He was naked from the waist up; the scars on his back that Jim was becoming so familiar with dancing on his skin as his arms moved.

Jim sat the tray down on the table beside the bed and turned, picking up Khan’s clothes that were scattered on the floor and placing them with the rest of the laundry. He had just decided that the best way to avoid Khan for the day was to do his laundry when the woman spoke.

“Oh, Khan, sweetheart,” she said, “Your slave looks so familiar. Wherever did you obtain him?”

Sparing Jim a glance, Khan said, “He’s a mutt I picked up at a Gladiator tournament. The victor of the last match.”

“Ohh a gladiator,” she said, rolling on her stomach to look at Jim, “How interesting.” She smacked her lips when she talked. Jim did not like her.

“Jim, won’t you escort Miss Prima to the courtyard? After helping her gather her belongings, anyway.” Khan said. Jim sighed internally, finally casting a glance to the brown-haired woman, whose rouged cheeks made her look like mere child. How old was she anyway? Surely not much younger than Jim. What made Khan like her so much?

“Of course,” Jim said as evenly as he could manage, though he couldn’t help add under his breath, “That is my job, after all. Taking out the trash.”

The woman’s offended “Why I never-” was interrupted by a startling movement from Khan, who had whipped around to face his slave. An icy look froze Jim to the spot, making him instantly regret the words that had tumbled out of his mouth. God, he really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut _-_

 _-Slap!_ The blow hit his cheek before he even saw Khan’s hand twitch. Suddenly, Jim found himself on the floor, clutching the side of his face, which he could feel bruising. Khan had hit him? Khan had harmed him for merely _speaking?_

“Watch your tongue,” Khan scolded, coolly stepping forward and draping a scarlet fabric over the woman’s bare shoulders, “I have half a mind to have you whipped.”

Jim was speechless, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had just been _struck_. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been hit before –far from it, by other slaves, the occasional bedroom conquest, and of course, former masters. But after the last few weeks of being with Khan, and enjoying a peaceful life there, somehow made him believe that Khan wasn’t the type to strike. Or at least not at him.

He’d been foolish. How had he been so damn foolish?

He stood, head bowed, not saying anything. Instead, he picked up the rest of the lady’s things and followed her, she with her head held high and he with his eyes glued to his bare feet, out into the courtyard. She took her things from there, casting him a pitying glance.

“Honey,” she said, speaking as if to a child, “I forgive you for being rude because I understand that your upbringing wasn’t ideal. But do be careful next time,” she put a hand on his arm and leaned closer, “I don’t think the Emperor is nearly as understanding as I am.”

Jim nodded and hurried back inside, glad to be rid of the woman. He leaned against the large door after he shut it, sighing and bringing a hand to his cheek, which was now quite swollen. Now was the really hard part –going back to Khan.

He made his way down the hallways with heavy reluctance sitting on his shoulders. He hesitated at the door handle. Would Khan still be angry with him? Jim was such a fool; would Khan hit him again? Why the hell was this so surprising, the second day Jim had been there he had been jerked around by the hair!

Nevertheless, his cheek wasn’t the only thing that stung. His pride had been wounded as well.

He entered the bedroom quietly, training his eyes on the ground once more. It was like his first day at the compound all over again. Khan was sitting at the small table near the door, a few letters in his hand. The breakfast at the side of the bed was untouched, and probably cold.

“I do believe we need to have a discussion, James.”

Jim winced, making his way to the Emperor and standing beside him. He was met with a cold look that dared him to continue standing where he was at a level above his master. So he sank to his knees instead.

“I don’t know how you came to believe that you were a free man, James,” his master said, “But you aren’t. And I don’t know where you learned that you could speak in such a way in my presence, but you can’t.”

He leaned down so their faces were only a small distance away from each other, “And I don’t know what you were thinking when you embarrassed me in front of one of your betters. But I do suggest you refrain from doing so in the first place.”  His voice was perfectly even. Jim’s head bowed further.

“Yes, master.”

~o~

“Alright, kid,” Bones said, “So you were stupid enough to back talk the one man in the universe that can legally kill you. Big deal, learn from it, move on.”

“But Bones,” Jim said, dunking another one of Khan’s expensive clothing items into the water, “I thought that after the whole teeth incident and how we had spoken before-”

“Forget how you’d talked before, Jim. When you’re in front of other people, Khan’s going to expect you to be perfectly obedient and silent as a cat. Honestly, who wouldn’t know that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t, obviously,” Jim replied, gesturing vaguely to the still-red portion of his face.

After Khan and Jim’s little “discussion”, Jim grabbed the laundry and got the hell out of there, with Khan’s permission, of course. To his surprise, Bones was doing his own laundry, so Jim told him his tale of woe.

“Kid, I’ve actually gotta ask you something. It might be a little uncomfortable for you, but as your doctor and as your friend, I should probably know,” Bones said suddenly, leaning against the wall of the stone water tub where the compound’s residents laundered their clothes.

“Spit it out Bones, you’re rambling,” Jim said. He grabbed some silk undergarments out of his basket. The day was beautiful, clear and bright, and he found his friend’s talk more than a little refreshing after the morning’s episode.

“Are you,” he paused, a pained look on his face, “Has Khan-” he stopped again, obviously uncomfortable.

“Bones,” Jim said, “What is it?”

“Well,” Bones ran a hand through his own disheveled hair, “It isn’t unlike the Emperor to be, well, _intimate_ with his slaves. Or at least, with the ones that he keeps close to him. He’s selfish and insatiable, so it’s really not surprising if you think about it.”

“Bones, are you asking if Khan’s fucked me yet?” Jim asked, deadpanned.

“Gods, kid, you really don’t have a filter on your mouth,” Bones said, looking frustrated, “But frankly, yes. And I’d like to know that, if yes, he hurt you or something. Again, I’m asking as a friend and a doctor.”

“Nope,” Jim said, his voice full of fake cheer, “Just call me Gaul, because I have yet to be conquered by the great Emperor Khan.”

“Yeah, well,” Bones said gravely, “Don’t be scared to come tell me when that changes. Because honestly, son, it will.”

And with that, he left Jim with his thoughts.

Jim walked around to the courtyard attached and began pinning up the wet togas and underclothes to dry. He’d had masters that wanted… _that_ from him. And they’d taken it without his permission at all. And if he’d learned anything from the incident today, Khan obviously wasn’t any different from his former masters.

Then why did it hurt so much to think about Khan like that?

~o~

 

 

 When he returned with the laundry, and after he put all of it away, Khan made him sit at his feet in the study once more. This time, holding close the little pride he still had, Jim sat tense and unmoving, refusing to let his master think that he had broken him. Because he hadn’t.

And Jim swore by every Roman god that he didn’t believe in that he would never break because of this accursed man who owned him.

Khan had been writing and reading and writing some more all day, taking one short break to bathe and eat. He hadn’t even bothered to completely dress, so those strange scars all over him were so visible to Jim, so eager to be seen and wondered at. And any other day or occasion, Jim might have done just that. He wanted to know the stories those scars told, and wanted to tell the stories about his as well. He wanted to feel them himself, run his hands over them-

Alright, he really needed to stay awake. He wouldn’t be able to bear the look of smugness that would be on Khan’s face if Jim woke up once more leaning on Khan’s leg like an attention-seeking puppy.

“Getting drowsy, James?” Khan said suddenly. His voice was a rumble of amusement and seriousness. Jim looked up, but Khan was still scanning the papers in his hand.

“No, master,” Jim replied letting his gaze drop once more to the ground.

“Are you only saying that because you think I want you to stay awake? I do not mind if you sleep, little pup,” the comment was made with a patronizing pat to Jim’s head. But Jim bit his tongue. He may have been getting sick and tired of being treated like a dog, but Khan would not have the satisfaction of hearing his complaint.

“No, sir,” Jim said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, but it’s beginning to be so late in the evening already,” Khan sighed, setting his stack of papers down, “I believe I’m ready to retire to my bed.”

Jim clambered up, watching as his master stood with an inhuman grace. He led Jim back into the bedroom and began stripping his clothes off and readying himself for bed, leaving Jim to extinguish the lamps in the study and pick up the articles of clothing as they dropped.

“I see no reason for you to stay in your own chambers tonight, child,” Khan said as he made himself comfortable in his nest of blankets and pillows, “Take care of the rest of the lamps and sleep there,” he gestured to the floor beside the bed, “where you belong.”

So this was his true punishment. A heated wave of embarrassment washed over Jim. Sleeping on the floor beside his master like a dog; unable to say anything for comfort, warmth, or even pride. Damn this life and damn this wretched man!

“Yes, master,” Jim said belatedly, realizing he had stood in front of Khan a moment too long with surprise written on his face. The nerve of the man! Smirking as he rolled onto his side, facing away from the man who he had every control over.

But Jim wouldn’t break. He wouldn’t let this too-proud Emperor have the arguments that wanted to spill out of Jim’s mouth. So he tended to the lamps and settled himself on the cold, stone floor next to his master’s bed.

Looking up at the high ceiling above him, Jim let out an almost tacit sigh and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift. He started thinking about Bones, and what he had said.   _It isn’t unlike the Emperor to be, well, intimate with his slaves. Or at least, with the ones that he keeps close to him._

Would the Emperor want that with him? Was the Emperor even attracted to Jim at all? After all, Jim was covered in scars that weren’t nearly as noble as the Emperor’s. Khan won his in battles for the country; Jim gained his in unwanted fights where he prayed for his opponent to die quickly, or even that for once, he wouldn’t be the victor. No, those scars weren’t ones a lover wanted to touch.

A sound interrupted his thoughts. It was strange, like a worn shoe sliding across marble. Jim quickly opened his eyes, but saw nobody else in the room. He only heard his master’s even, sleeping breaths. Had he imagined it?

He laid back down. Closed his eyes. He tried to match his breathing with Khan’s, willing himself to sleep as soundly. He drifted into a doze, not fully asleep.

There it was again. Something he could barely make out. He cracked his eyes open a tiny bit in irritation.

To his horror, he saw the tail-end of a great, threatening snake disappear up the bedpost and into the bed with the sleeping Emperor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: Gladiators were made up of citizens that sold themselves to pay debts, criminals, and slaves sold by their masters. Gladiators could also be volunteers who wanted to fight and included women who wanted to prove their strength! 
> 
> Cineri Gloria Sera Venit (Fear comes too late to the dead)


	6. Absit Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assassination attempts, misunderstandings, and sexual tension -oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo hey guys!
> 
> so heres the new chapter, tiny bit of violence, lil bit of blood, and a teensy bit of sexual tension. I rewrote this mutherfricker a dozen times omg
> 
> anyway, enjoy! And thanks to everyone who commented, bookmarked, left a kudos, etc.

The blood drained from Jim’s face. A snake? In the Emperor’s room? And – _it’s moving again._ Jim felt frozen to the spot, staring stupidly as the snake made its way to Khan’s sleeping form. Slowly, threateningly.

Jim swallowed and shifted away from the bed. He had to do something. He was afraid that if he called out to the guards (who were no doubt posted right outside the door) the snake would become aggressive and lunge at his unaware master.

There had to be something – _there!_ A decorated sword hung above the table on the opposite wall. Jim crept around the bed, sweat beading on his face and his heart racing in his chest. Khan shifted onto his side. The movement made both Jim and the snake freeze in their places.

It was to the right of the Emperor, long tail draped over his covered legs and dangling still over the side of the bed Jim had been sleeping beside. It was coming closer and closer to the slumbering king.

Jim could hear his own pulse thunder in his ears. He was shaking, the kind of shaking he only ever experienced when in the middle of a particularly brutal gladiator fight.

The snake’s head inched backwards, preparing to strike the Emperor’s pale, vulnerable throat.

Jim dove to the sword and ripped it off the wall, the sound of his terrified yell echoing in his ears, drowning out everything else. The snake froze and began to turn at the noise, but before it saw its attacker, its head was separated from its body.

In the matter of seconds several things happened at once. A few guards burst through the door, one with a torch which at once cast the room into violent reds and yellows. Khan leapt out of the bed, a look of utter horror on his face. The snake’s lifeless body slid silently to the floor. Its head remained on the bed, tousled by the movement of Khan emerging from the covers.

While all of this was happening, Jim could only see the Emperor, who had the blood of the snake splattered on his face and chest. But Jim, whose head was still reeling with adrenaline and fear, could only see that he had injured Khan somehow in his effort to kill the snake. A shallow cut on the man’s chest, but still there and bleeding. And _the blood-_

They’d kill him, they’d have his head on a pike for harming Khan-

“ _James,”_ a voice broke through. Khan? The Emperor was next to him, a settled frown on his face as he locked gazes with Jim, a hand pressed lightly against the cut. _Are you alright?_ Jim wanted to ask. Suddenly his fear was less for his own safety and more for his Emperor’s.   

Jim fell to the ground, the bloodstained sword sliding out of his shaking hands. On his knees, he looked blearily up at the guards. _Where were you? Why did you let this happen?_ He tried forming the words, but found his mouth rather dry.

Huh. One of the guards’ mouth was moving. What was he saying?

“What?” Jim mustered out, feeling too loud for the room. The guard drew a sword from his belt.

“For putting the Emperor’s life at risk,” he said, voice booming, “You are under arrest.”

“The punishment for attempted murder is death, son,” the other guard added darkly.

“Wait-” Jim sputtered, rising unsteadily to his feet, “It wasn’t me, I didn’t-”

“From what I have observed of this slave,” Khan said, authority ringing, “He poses no threat. There must be a misunderstanding.”

“Sir, you’re bleeding, and this man held the sword stained with your blood. For this crime he will hang!” The first guard said, roughly pulling Jim to his feet, and tugging him closer to the door. Jim looked back wildly at Khan, expecting the man to at least argue with this fate.

But instead, to his horror, the Emperor looked uncertain and pained, hand still resting on his wound. He watched silently as Jim was forced out into the hallway.

Jim thrashed against the guard holding him the minute the door to Khan’s room closed. “You have to believe me,” Jim yelled, “There was a snake-”

“Shut up,” the guard ground out, bashing Jim ruthlessly on the side of the head with the butt of his sword.

Everything went dark.

~o~

Jim was kept in a cold, damp cell for hours. His head ached from where it was hit. The dampness of the tiny room soaked through his flimsy tunic. He leaned tiredly against the wall, arms wrapped securely around the knees drawn up to his chest.

Did the Emperor really believe that Jim had attempted to kill him? Surely they wouldn’t sentence him to death before speaking to him, right? They would talk to him, they would listen. He’d tell them about the snake. They’d find its body in Khan’s quarters, they’d let him live. Right?

His teeth were chattering. He figured he was somewhere close to the kitchens –maybe underground- or near a water source. No place above ground would grow to be so chilly.

He was pessimistically contemplating the means of his execution when he heard voices through the door of his tiny cell. One was particularly loud, and deep. Khan?

The door swung open, bathing Jim in the sudden light of the outside world, forcing his eyes to squint and adjust. Sure enough, the Emperor stood there, stony faced and wearing one of his less formal togas.

“Come,” he said simply, holding the door as Jim struggled to stand, back and legs creaking in disagreement. He followed the older man sluggishly, feeling downright ill after the scare with the snake and the hours confined in the dim, cold cell.

“You’ve been released from any and all charges,” Khan said, slowing his gait to a stop in a hallway branching off of the kitchens, as Jim had suspected. Jim was a little embarrassed by his lack of breath. Any other day and he would have been on point and quick to follow, but his queasy stomach and pounding head refused to let him move as quickly as he wanted to. However, Khan’s words took a huge weight off of Jim’s shoulders. His name was cleared.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand urging him forward, pressed warmly against the center of his back. Jim looked up. The Emperor met his eyes, stealing the breath from Jim’s very lungs.

“You saved my life,” Khan said, his eyes obviously asking for an explanation.

“Well,” Jim chose his words carefully, “You saved mine.” It was the coward’s way out, he supposed. Khan dragging him out of his gladiator lifestyle had saved his life, yes, but that wasn’t what was going through his head at the sight of the snake. No, Jim found that his worries were with Khan and his safety.

But why?

“That’s not it,” Khan said thoughtfully, seemingly more to himself than to Jim, “You wouldn’t have reacted so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, “drastically, had it been to settle a debt.” Drastically? Jim would hardly call it that. Yes, he did sort of collapse, and yes, only Khan could really pull him out of it, but he had reacted fairly. Assassination attempts were nothing to scoff at.

Assassination. With a jolt, Jim realized that the snake could not have just appeared in the room, nor could it have wandered in of its own accord, hell-bent on attacking the sleeping figure in the bed.

“Do you know who did it?” Jim asked the Emperor, “Who tried to-” he trailed off, not quite knowing how to put it. What would he say, anyway? ‘Oh, by the way, is there anybody who wants you dead? I mean, you’re just the damn Emperor!’ Ridiculous.

“I’m not sure,” Khan said, letting a flash of uncertainty cross his face, “Many people came and left both while I was in the area and when I was not. However, there is no way that this was an accident.”

With that dark comment, Khan led him through the winding hallways and gardens and paths that connected the compound together, eventually all the way back to the Emperor’s own private building.

Because it was so early in the morning, the hallways and atriums were dark and ugly, the statues and paintings unfamiliar in the dim light. It could have been his drowsiness, but Jim found himself lost in the house, depending on Khan to get them where they needed to go.

They arrived at Khan’s quarters, after passing Jim’s; apparently, Khan had no intention of dismissing him for the time being, and after the stressful, eventful day they had Jim had not the energy nor the desire to act out of turn.

Khan opened the door, leading Jim inside, once again with surprisingly gentle touch. Something had changed in Khan’s reverence of him, Jim could tell. It was a good change, he thought, one that opened Khan up to him. But it puzzled Jim nonetheless.  

Khan left Jim’s side at the door, sweeping gracefully across the room, closing the curtains against the bright, early rays of the morning sun, casting the room in shadows. Jim stood in the doorway, finding that his physical ailments were nonexistent when he became lost, looking at the Emperor move.

“I’m afraid we didn’t get much sleep earlier, so I cancelled the appointments and work to be done until this evening,” Khan said, without looking at Jim. He stripped himself of the toga and slid into the bed, which was made with a new, faded blue set of sheets. The snake, and any blood spilled, was gone; scrubbed away by hard-working hands, which Jim was rather grateful for. He didn’t think he’d be able to look at bloodstains when his mind and body were as frail as they were in that moment.

Jim shifted from one foot to another, not really sure what he was supposed to do. Surely the Emperor wouldn’t have him sleep on the floor once more. He’d served his punishment, along with a few cold hours on the floor of a windowless cell. Besides, Khan hadn’t shown any ill will towards him since the moment of uncertainty as Jim last left the room.

“Won’t you join me, James?”  Khan asked casually, catching Jim off guard and gesturing to the space beside him on the bed.

Dumbstruck, his surprised face hopefully hidden to Khan by the shadows in the room, Jim walked to the other side of the bed, hovering next to the spot for a moment, hesitating. Was this a test? His exhaustion made him doubt his master’s orders.

“Come then, we only have until evening to rest,” Khan sighed, half in amusement, half in exasperation.

Plucking up his courage, Jim slipped into the bed beside Khan, trying his best to keep a respectful distance between the two of them. With a huff of annoyance Khan turned toward his slave and propped himself up halfheartedly, reaching forward and pulling Jim close before plopping back down again.

The proximity between the two of them was nonexistent, and Jim found himself once again unable to breath at the sight of his master. His face heated up, and he had no idea where to look or what to do.

He caught sight of the Emperor’s naked chest, and the bandage so carefully placed there. A stab of guilt sobered the former gladiator, and he shrunk back from Khan, making himself as small as possible.

Khan was having none of that. He reached around Jim once more, this time leaving one arm hooked around Jim’s slim waist, refusing to let the boy move away.

“I’m so sorry,” Jim blurted out, shutting his eyes and willing himself not to notice how pleasant it felt to be held and how nice the Emperor smelled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you with the sword, I just-”

“I think you’ll find,” Oh gods, Jim could feel Khan’s voice rumble through the chest that was pressed against his own, “I prefer sword wounds to snake bites.”

They were silent for another moment. Jim wanted nothing more than to sink down into the warmth that was the Emperor’s arms, but still resisted. What was happening? Why did this warmth, this sweet feeling, suddenly overcome his senses? Jim had never been held like this before.

“Sleep, James,” Khan said quietly, shifting his head down so his forehead pressed against Jim’s. Jim hoped Khan couldn’t feel how warm Jim’s face was getting.

“Yes, master,” Jim mumbled, tentatively resting his arms against Khan’s chest. However, a few seconds later, Jim fidgeted again, eyes searching Khan’s closed ones for anything, anything at all that might unveil why Jim was feeling what he was feeling.

Suddenly those clear, blue eyes were peering into his own, with an expression Jim didn’t recognize. Something definitely warm, but also curious, and maybe a little bit timid. Khan’s hand trailed up to cup the side of Jim’s face. His breath caught in his throat once more. They were so _close_. He could almost-

And then Khan was kissing him. Those bowed lips fitting against Jim’s like they were meant to be there all along. Jim’s eyes fluttered closed, pressing into the kiss instinctively, arms sliding around the Emperor until he was clutching at his back like a drowning man struggling to stay afloat.

Khan invaded his every sense; all of Jim’s aches and pains were gone, replaced with this bewildering feeling of being held and kissed and just _part_ of someone else, sharing their very essence.

It was over as quickly as it had started, leaving Jim with a pounding heart and a reeling head. The Emperor grazed butterfly kisses at the corner of Jim’s mouth and cheek, before pulling him impossibly closer, completely surrounding the slave with his warmth.

Jim sighed almost silently, feeling dazed and comfortable, arms still clutching around to Khan’s back and face pressed into the warm chest of his Emperor.

He fell asleep easily.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: In the case of a murder, Roman slaves could be punsihed via crucifixion, labor camps, or even "ad bestias" (to the beasts)! Lovely!
> 
> Absit Omen (May the Omen be Absent or May this Not be an Omen)


	7. Nihil Infinitum Est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's tired of being confused, i mean, what the heck! So he's just like 'you know what? fine. whatever.' gotta love him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I am super sorry for being so darn late with this chapter. Real life is a crazy thing, but I tried to make up for the wait by not only making it one of the longer chapters -but this chapter includes a little smut! Some real plot stuff will be in the next couple chapters, so enjoy the fluff and smutty goodness I present for you today! but seriously theres smut at the end of the chapter, so be warned! <3

Jim woke peacefully, slowly blinking in the dim evening light. A large, warm hand was winding its way through his hair, stroking down the nape of his neck and back up again. His cheek was pressed against a strong chest, and he very nearly closed his eyes again to fall back into the new, nightmare-free sleep he’d just woken up from. Instead, he shifted and sighed, settling again only when he had a good look at his bedmate’s face.  

The Emperor didn’t look at his slave, instead he continued stroking a hand through Jim’s hair, face upturned and studying the intricate ceiling, lost in thought. Jim, struggling to stay awake, yawned and snaked his arms around Khan’s waist, surprised at how easy and natural the gesture felt.

“Good morning,” Jim said lamely, giving his master a lopsided smile.

“I’d hardly call it morning,” Khan scoffed, turning his gaze to Jim. Though he didn’t smile, there was definitely amusement in his eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Jim’s in a chaste kiss. There was a sort of electricity in that kiss; it was present in the first kiss they shared, but Jim had mistaken it for surprise.

Even a kiss as simple as that left Jim speechless. How very strange.

“We ought to be up and about by this time,” Khan said, even as Jim’s lips were still tingling, “we’ve a lot to do.”

“We do?” Jim said abruptly.

“Oh yes,” Khan said, “I don’t think I’ve told you. I’m scheduled for a trip to Gaul; a province has just been conquered, and I’m to congratulate the generals who managed the whole affair. Among other duties, of course.”

Gaul? Khan was leaving for Gaul?

The Emperor went on, closing his eyes to rest for a moment and pulling Jim closer, “The trip will be made by sea, as a few skirmishes to the northwest are prohibiting direct travel.” Jim frowned. How long would he be gone? Skirmishes? He was flooded with the most irrational and bewildering concern.

“James?” Khan said. Jim looked up, realizing that as Khan spoke Jim had become tenser in his master’s arms. Inquisitive blue-green eyes peered curiously into Jim’s. Nervously, Jim licked his lips, trying not to notice how Khan’s eyes followed the movement.

“I, uh,” he tried again, “When should I expect you back home?”

A stunned silence was followed by a rumbling laugh, “You will, of course, be accompanying me to Gaul.” Jim buried his face in the pale chest in front of him, hoping to hide the embarrassed flush that heated his face and neck. It also hid the relieved smile that he couldn’t seem to banish from his mouth.

In response to this, Khan rolled them over so Jim was on his back against the pillows, letting out the feeblest of protests as the Emperor shifted and moved him around, hands gliding over his legs and sides, mouth licking and sucking deliciously at Jim’s jaw and neck.

How had this happened so quickly? Had the potential assassination pushed their relationship into a strange new direction? As affection like he had never experienced before was showered upon him, Jim found his confusion lessening. This felt right. It was more than just the warmth of a body next to him, it had to be. Any transgression against him that Khan had caused –the slap, the degrading order to sit at his feet or lay by his bedside- seemed like it had happened years ago. Perhaps not forgiven or forgotten, but definitely able to be overlooked.

Jim was always a man who went with his gut, and his gut was practically begging him to stop fighting and questioning the feelings he was having. As Khan kissed his neck and smoothed his hands up and down Jim’s rib cage, Jim came to a conclusion. He’d open himself up to whatever this was. Although it had been mere weeks since Khan had whisked him away from the gladiator life, Jim was ready to devote some his time to figuring all of this out. He wanted to protect Khan –save him from any other snake that entered his chambers, if you will.

Jim was drawn from his thoughts by a sharp bite on his collarbone.

“Ow!” Jim complained half-heartedly, looking down at the man responsible. As if in apology, Khan kissed the spot, kissing his neck once more before shutting Jim up with a heated kiss. Jim nearly let out a muffled moa, to his endless embarrassment.

Khan’s kissing was like his personality; strong and in control, but with surprises that Jim just couldn’t predict. Jim brought his arms up to drape around Khan’s neck, tilting his head to fit better against his Emperor.

Suddenly, Jim’s stomach rumbled. Loudly. Khan’s lips smiled against Jim’s, pressing firmly one last time before drawing back.

“We should probably rise and begin our day, don’t you think?” Khan said, “We’ll go and grab something to eat and begin the preparations for our journey.”

Feeling bold, Jim reached up and kissed his master once more, if only to feel that electricity once again. Then he said, “Yeah, I can go get something from the kitchens, they always have plenty left over after dinner.”

“Very well,” Khan said, giving Jim a curious glance. Jim wasn’t sure what he had said to initiate such a response, but liked to think that maybe he puzzled his Emperor at least as much as Khan puzzled him. He moved off of Jim and rose from the bed. Jim felt strangely cold at the weight of Khan being lifted from him.

As Khan dressed himself in a new toga, Jim straightened the tunic he slept in as well as he could, slipping past the Emperor and into the hallway. A brief glance to the guards that stood outside, and he was off, making his way down the winding paths to the kitchens.

“Hey, Jim!” A voice called as he approached.

“Bones!” Jim greeted amicably, giving his friend a broad smile.

“I heard about the incident this morning,” Bones said, glancing around, as if the perpetrator were in the very room they stood. Alas, the only others in the kitchen area were a few more servants, and Uhura, who was so loaded with printed papyrus that they didn’t dare disturb her.

“Did you?” Jim asked, not surprised, “Opinions?”

“Well, Jim,” Bones said, hands on hips, “It was very noble and all, what you did, but as your doctor and as your friend I worry for you. You spent nearly an entire night in a cell –and damn if it couldn’t have been worse- so if you start feeling ill, you come straight to me.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Jim said, rolling his eyes, “Were you the one who patched Khan up?”

“Yeah, I was,” Bones paused, “he asked about you. He asked me why the hell you’d risk your own safety for his. Why you stayed and killed the thing instead of running off.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I said that you were a damn fool, of course,” Bones said matter-of-factly, and then a bit softer, “And that you must think he’s worth saving. Or something like that.”

“Oh,” Jim said, blinking, “Thanks, I suppose.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bones grumbled, “I didn’t really think about it, it just seemed like the right thing to say at the time. He was quite the mess, honestly.”

“Well,” Jim said carefully, bringing a hand up to scratch at the side of his head, “it’s not wrong, I guess.”

Bone’s eyes travelled down to Jim’s throat. His natural frown deepened.

“What the hell is that?” he asked. Jim glanced down, turning red at the sight of the bite-mark on his collarbone, among the other miniscule, teeth-teased patches of skin. Oops.

“Well,” Jim drawled out, “You see-”

“Good gods,” Bones huffed, “You better be damn careful. If I have to deal with a torn-”

“ _Bones,_ ” Jim whined, “C’mon, we haven’t,” he made a pained noise, “done _that_.”

“Yet,” Bones said under his breath.

 They made their farewells and Jim moved into the kitchen and grabbed a tray, loading it with warm bread, spiced eggs and olives, and a bowl of some fruit, balancing a pitcher of honeyed water and a beautifully decorated goblet for Khan.

The trek back was a bit longer than the one there, what with Jim carefully carrying the tray in front of him. When he approached the bedroom, a guard graciously opened the door for him, waving away the thanks that Jim threw his way.

Khan wasn’t in the bedroom. Instead, Jim discovered by the cracked door, he was in his study, absorbed in the paperwork in front of him, one hand scribbling away with a flourishing white-feather pen.

“Sir,” Jim said quietly, hoping he wasn’t disturbing the Emperor.

“James,” Khan said, glancing up at him, “What have you brought me?”

Jim walked into the room and shut the door, placing the tray on the desk, just to the left of Khan’s workspace, “You know, just bread and fruit and whatever I could find. Nothing but the best, of course.”

Khan reclined in his chair, setting down his pen and huffing out a laugh at Jim’s words. He immediately picked up a steaming roll, biting into it and chewing slowly, enjoying the taste. Jim picked up the pitcher and goblet and poured his master some of the honeyed water.

Before he could retract his arm from putting the pitcher down and placing the goblet within reaching distance of Khan, the Emperor closed his fingers around Jim’s wrist, pulling him closer to the seated man.

“Dine with me,” Khan ordered simply, pulling Jim by the waist to sit on his lap. Jim’s face turned red again, to his embarrassment.

Khan attacked another roll, as Jim tentatively reached for an apple.

“When are we leaving for Gaul?” Jim asked, taking a bite out of the ripe fruit and pretending like it was completely normal to be lounging on his master’s _lap._

“In two days, if there are no other interruptions,” Khan murmured, bring the goblet to his lips, “Other servants will take care of packing, but I’ll finish preparing tomorrow.”

 They sat and ate in comfortable silence for a while, Jim becoming more at home on Khan’s lap, even shifting to lean more into him. One of Khan’s arms lazily encircled his slave’s waist, fingers dancing across his hip bone.

The sun had completely sunk under the horizon by the time the two were finished with their late dinner. Jim was grateful for the blazing moonlight that shone through the window and vaguely illuminated the study, making the whole place dark enough so Khan didn’t move Jim to continue his work but light enough that Jim could still see the glorious features of his master’s face and body.

It was nighttime, but neither of the two felt tired at all; if anything, they were restless, overly aware of each other’s presence. They had slept the day away, assassination attempt or no, so sleep seemed counterproductive.

Jim snaked his arms around Khan’s neck, pulling the older man down for a deep kiss. It was slow and sweet, unlike the few and far between kisses that he had experienced in his life before Khan.

Khan broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Jim’s, bumping noses with him, letting Jim catch his breath. At this point Jim had shifted on Khan’s lap, slipping one leg to the other side of his master’s strong thighs, straddling the Emperor, his tunic riding up ever so slightly. One of Khan’s hands had found refuge on Jim’s hip, the other stroking up his thigh, just under his tunic.

Jim felt arousal slowly building in the pit of his stomach, swallowing thickly as he brought a hand up to run through the Emperor’s dark fringe. He couldn’t seem to control the quick beating of his heart, nor the slight tremor in his hand.

Khan kissed him again, dominating his mouth with a passionate hunger that Jim liked to believe was reserved for only him, whatever the case may be. This time the kiss was hard and bruising, teeth clashing and tongues battling, Khan’s hands both moving to encircle his waist, pulling him impossibly close. As they got closer, Jim realized that Khan was definitely as aroused as Jim was. Jim’s heart hammered in his chest. He decided it was time to be bold again.

Jim let himself grind into the body beneath him, rubbing himself firmly against the Emperor’s arousal, not helping the strained moan that escaped around Khan’s mouth. With a growl Khan pushed Jim’s tunic up as much as he could, giving Jim the idea that he wanted it off. Complying, Jim broke their kiss to yank it up and over his head, dropping it carelessly onto the floor.

Jim tentatively looped his arms around Khan once more, suddenly extra aware of the scars that crisscrossed his torso. However, Khan simply ran his hands along them tenderly, canting his hips to meet Jim’s with a stirred, approving noise.

“James,” Khan breathed into his neck, “I will not force you to do an act you may not enjoy. Is this truly what you want?”  

Jim smoothed a hand up his master’s almost completely bare chest, suddenly very sure of what he wanted, “Oh, _gods yes._ ”

At that approval, Khan crashed their lips together once more, grinding savagely against the slave on his lap. Giving a strangled moan, Jim blindly and frantically slid his hands everywhere he could reach –doing his best to push away the fabric that covered Khan’s warm body. He ran his hands on Khan’s torso, mapping out every inch of the warm expanse of skin, touching tenderly the scars that littered his master’s chest.

Wasting no time, Jim shifted the cloth of Khan’s toga this way and that, until he was able to free the hard cock that had been rubbing heatedly against him. The heat of the flushed skin and the sheer intensity of the moment had Jim breathless, unable to maintain any cognitive ability, especially with Khan’s governing tongue still invading Jim’s mouth.

Still dominating the kiss, Khan grabbed Jim’s arms and moved them back around his neck in a silent command. Hooking a strong arm around Jim’s waist to hold him firmly against his body, he let the other hand trail down the younger man’s chest, tweaking a nipple and gliding smoothly down the faint happy trail that led under his last bits of clothing. Then Khan pulled Jim’s cock out of his undergarments, taking it in hand with his own.

Jim broke their kiss to let out a breathy moan at the feeling of Khan’s heated touch, unconsciously turning his head away to gulp down a lungful of fresh air. At the sudden availability of skin, Khan secured his mouth onto Jim’s throat, sucking and biting one spot and stroking their erections in a rugged rhythm, a moan tearing its way out of Jim’s throat.

Jim fisted his hands into Khan’s hair, not knowing how long he could keep this up. His hips were thrusting irregularly into Khan’s hand, which was moving smoothly, thanks to the slick pre-come dribbling down the sides of their cocks.

Khan released Jim’s neck suddenly, letting out a ragged moan that shook Jim’s very bones. His hand was speeding up erratically, hips moving as well, forcing Jim to clutch even harder at him to stay seated.

After hearing something that _could_ have been his name torn from the lips of his master, Jim came _hard_ with a resonating cry, his vision going white. He trembled with the aftershocks of his release, bones feeling like jelly. Vaguely, distantly, he heard Khan make a strained, impassioned noise into his neck, feeling the hot splash of Khan’s seed on his stomach.

The room was completely quiet, only disturbed by the heavy breathing of the Emperor and his slave, who was slouched in the older man’s lap, exhausted and indifferent to the sticky mess between them. They stayed like that for a while, coming down from their respective highs and reveling in each other’s warmth.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: Roman's often ate reclining on their sides, and almost always ate with their hands!
> 
> "Nihil Infinitum Est" (Nothing is Infinite)


	8. Bibamus, Moriendum Est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theyre on a boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, sorry for taking so long! I was qualified for nationals for my schools speech team (woo!) but that means that theres a lot of work to be done...not to mention the school's production of Annie, which is completely taking up my time. 
> 
> anywho, please enjoy the newest installment, comments, kudos and bookmarks what have you are always appreciated!

It was the night before they were to leave for Gaul that Jim had a nightmare. The days leading up to it were wonderfully nightmare-free, thanks to the soothing presence of his master beside him as he slept. It must have been too much to ask for them to be gone forever. However, this was one that he hadn’t had for a while.

_He was so very small, just a child, and the soldiers were so large. Their armor glistened in the light of the fire. Everything was burning, there was fire in the sky and all around him. A soldier was pulling his shrieking mother by the hair away from their burning house, another yanking him by the wrist to follow. Where was his brother? He wouldn’t leave without his brother! The flames lit up the dark, clear sky-_

“James?” a sleepy voice mumbled.

_He was a teenager now. On his knees next to his mother, holding her nearly lifeless form. He was losing her, fast, no matter how hard his useless hands clutched at the gaping wound in her abdomen. How could she leave him alone like this? He cried shamelessly, screaming for someone –anyone- to save her._

_“You look so very much like your father, Jim.” She was gone._

“James,” the voice said again, this time a bit more awake.

_He was in the arena. The blood dripped from his arms. He kept himself from retching at the sight of his victim, but just barely. He could feel that a few of his ribs were broken, but couldn’t bring himself to care. The jagged knife in his hand transformed into a snake –an asp—and began writhing in his bloodstained hands–_

“James!”

“ _You look so very much like your father,”_

“James, wake up!”

_“Even the mighty have fallen before me,” the snake lunged forward-_

Jim jerked awake, shaking violently and sweating through his tunic. After a moment of gasping and sputtering, he realized that he was clawing at his own chest hysterically, trying desperately to scratch off the _dried, and cracking_ blood that wasn’t there. It wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t there.

Two strong hands tugged gently at his wrists, pulling his tense arms away from the chest that was now covered in marks. Despite his sweating, Jim didn’t turn away from or push out Khan’s closeness and warmth. Instead, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to get control over his breathing.

Khan’s hands seemed to flutter nervously around Jim, reaching up to move the sweat-slicked hair from Jim’s forehead, only to move back down to brush over his wrists again, to make sure the hands attached stopped their scratching.

Jim needed to scrub his hands. He still felt the blood there, and wanted it _off_. Shaking and trying to control his breathing, Jim clutched his hands together, jumping when Khan covered them in his own.

Khan pulled Jim to his chest, wrapping his arms around him without a word.

~o~

The boat was large and beautiful; nothing but the best for the Emperor, after all. The two had risen early in the morning, neither breathing a word about the nighttime incident, though something told Jim that the subject was not completely dropped. Khan ate breakfast with the captain of the vessel and other crewmates when they arrived at the dock –a few hours before daylight, Jim supposed—ushering Jim into the smaller, but still lavish, room they were to share aboard the ship to wait for him.

That is, one that belonged to the Emperor, but had a small cot set up for him. Unnecessary, of course.

There weren’t any windows in the room, so Jim only knew they had started moving when he heard the cheers and excited shouts of the people outside fade into the busy sound of working sailors. Instead of the comforting light of day, there was only the dimly burning lamps that decorated each wall.

Gods, he was _bored._ And that was such a strange feeling for somebody who had been put to work for every second of the day for so long. He tasted boredom back at the compound, but it was different. Fleeting. Whenever he was bored it would quickly dissipate with the presence of Khan. Now, Khan was out doing something that Jim wasn’t really invited to participate in.

Cushioned by at least four pillows in the luxurious bed, Jim poked idly at his stomach. The hard, wiry muscles there were beginning to soften a bit due to disuse. When he was a gladiator, he spent his days training, keeping himself in top fighting condition. How long had he been away from the arena now? Though he supposed that the new diet of fancy food and extra desert helped very little. Damn his sweet tooth.

Although, Jim found that he didn’t really mind the edgy, tough muscles fading to something a bit softer. It reminded him that he wasn’t a dog that was starved and made to run and fight anymore. Instead, he was the Emperor’s well-fed lapdog. He frowned.

Jim dozed for a while, never really letting himself fall asleep, lest he have another nightmare. The Emperor came back within a couple hours, saying nothing as he strolled to the desk and wrote something down on some papyrus there. Jim sat up on the bed at Khan’s arrival. Heaving a sigh, Khan made his way to the bed and sat beside him, slipping an arm around Jim’s waist and burying his face in his neck. The affection was so strange to Jim, but not unwelcome. How was this the same cruel-faced man that he had met only a short time ago?

“All these old officers,” Khan said, his breath tickling Jim’s throat, “they’ll be the death of me.” Jim smiled softly and cautiously brought a hand up, weaving his fingers into Khan’s hair. Khan sighed again, this time softer, with a tired but contented air.

“Do you know when we’ll arrive in Gaul?” Jim asked.

“In a few days, weather permitting. The captain fears a storm is brewing.”

“Oh.”

They were silent for a few minutes more, Khan’s breath warm on Jim’s throat, Jim’s hand comfortably entwined the Emperor’s dark hair. Affection was still so new to Jim, but he marveled at the feeling it left behind. Warmth. Comfort.

They spent the day lounging around the boat, Khan leaving every once and a while to attend to some duty or another. He never really told Jim what was going on. Because he was stuck in a windowless room all day, Jim never even noticed the dark, billowing clouds that surrounded the boat on the first night.

~o~

Jim was awoken by a clash of thunder, the flash from a lightning bolt squeezing through the cracks in the walls. The ship was rocking back and forth violently, taking Jim’s catapulting stomach with it. Frantically, he called out to Khan, his voice lost in the sounds of waves hitting the sides of the boat. But Khan was nowhere to be found. Jim was alone in the room.

Pulling a tunic over his head hastily (he had been too tired to redress after he and Khan, well, _spent time_ together) and hurried out the door. The crew on deck was in chaos; a dozen men were bailing water out the sides of the boat, another desperately trying to secure the masts from further damage. Everyone was soaking wet, and in a few minutes, he was too.

“Khan!” he shouted, looking desperately for the head of dark hair that would indicate his master, but only saw the ones that belonged to the crew. Where had he gone?

He thought he heard the distant sound of pleading cries, somewhere deep below his feet. Ignoring it and the chilled feeling that came with it, Jim ran around, seeking out his Emperor and trying not to get in the way.

He found Khan –to his surprise—with a bucket, bailing the ship out with the other half of the crew. Seeing the man that men bowed down to soaking wet and working exhaustedly alongside his crew was quite something.

Another strike of lightning, frighteningly close and followed by a bone-shaking clap of thunder, interrupted Jim’s thoughts. The deafening sound of rain and thunder and waves hitting against the deck drowned out the orders Khan was barking to the crew, but Jim figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have one more bailing out the boat.

He took up a bucket and began working alongside his master. When Khan caught sight of him, he flashed a fleeting look of acknowledgment –and perhaps a little surprise—before being interrupted by another clap of thunder.

The ship was moving erratically, and there was more than one time that Jim feared it would be flipped into the sea. The cries below his feet didn’t stop; he began to believe that he was imagining them. The force of the waves knocked Jim off of his feet more than once, but he dragged himself up despite his exhaustion and continued working.

It seemed like an eternity before the storm ended, but when it did, it took with it the resounding noise of the wind and waves. The noise was replaced with an almost tangible quiet, so strange after the noise of the storm.

“James,” Khan walked over to where Jim stood, exhausted and windblown. He looked about the same, but Jim kind of liked the blown-away look Khan was sporting. It made him look humble, “I’m the damn Emperor, fetch me something to eat.” Alright, not so humble.

Nodding and laughing a bit under his breath, Jim sidestepped his master, leaving a casual touch to the man’s shoulder on the way to the galley. Water was still about ankle deep on some parts of the ship, lapping amicably at his heels as he walked. 

“Terentia,” Jim called as he knocked lightly on the doorway to the galley and walked in, “Have anything good for Khan?” Terentia was the quiet kitchen maid that often gave Jim Khan’s breakfast. She was a little snotty, with a habit of smacking her lips when she talked, but she was nice enough.

“Well,” she said, turning around to face him with hands on hips, “I _guess_ we could find something. We didn’t just have a _storm_ or anything.”

“Whoa, don’t shoot the messenger,” Jim said, holding his hands up in surrender, “It’s for the Emperor, neither one of us can really argue.”

“Fine,” she said, beginning to pull things from boxes and cupboards and putting them into the basket. Bread, fruit, cheese, lots of stuff that was still dry. Basket in one hand and an apple in the other, Jim started back up to the deck.

He froze when he heard the sound of a groan. A small set of stairs led to the very belly of the ship, where a few voices could be heard, none sounding very happy. Curiosity getting the best of him, he crept down the stairs, dropping his apple back into the basket.

What greeted him at the bottom of the stairs made him lose the appetite he had procured from all of his hard work. He leaned against the wall in the shadows, eyes closed in a bit of pain. He shouldn’t have forgotten where he was or who he was with. Roman soldiers.

About two dozen benches were lined up on either side of the grand, caving walls. Chained to the benches and clinging desperately to the oars that disappeared into the water on either side were enough slaves to fill the whole chamber with noise and heat.

This was a military ship. Sails could only let the ship go so fast, so oars and slaves to row were installed. Some were crying; in case of emergency –storm or ambush—the slaves were chained to go down with the ship. Jim felt sick.

Before anybody could see him, he darted up the stairs, face pale and heart racing. This was how Khan treated his other slaves? No, not his Khan. Not the one that kissed him so tenderly, or touched him with such intimacy.

This was the Khan that turned his thumb down at the arena, commanding Jim to kill his opponent once he was down. This was the man who threatened him. Punished him. Saved him? Jim hesitated at the door of their conjoined room. Should he tell the Emperor what he had seen? No, he couldn’t.

Putting up his best front, he opened the door, slipping into the room and setting the basket of food on the desk, where Khan sat writing. Jim bit his lip, unsure of what to do next. He opted for settling his hands gently on his master’s shoulders, trying not to think about the _other_ Khan. The one that wasn’t his.

“James, if there’s something the matter, you should tell me.” Ah, so Khan was paying attention to him.

“How could you tell?” Jim asked, defeated.

“Something’s happened. You’re doing that thing again,” Khan said quietly, his tone thoughtful, “You seem to drift when your mind is occupied. And you purse your lips.” Khan had noticed all of that? How strange.

“Oh. Well, I mean,” Jim shifted, breaking any eye contact, “I saw—”

“Spit it out, James.”

“The slaves. Rowing the boat. They were,” he swallowed, “chained to their stations.” Khan blinked at him, looking surprised.

“Of course they were. Do you think they’d stay if they were free?”

“No, but,” Jim made a face, looking back at Khan and retracting his hands from their place on Khan’s shoulders, “What if the ship had gone down? They’d die.”

Khan didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Jim could see it in his face. _Why care if they die? They’re just slaves._ Jim’s throat constricted, suddenly feeling rather sick. He could tell that his face had gone pale.

“They’re not you James,” Khan said quickly, standing up and for once, looking a little panicked, “It’s different with them—”

“How? How could it possibly—”

“They’re criminals, they were sent to the seas instead of the gallows or the cross. This is a mercy,” Khan said, his eyes begging for Jim to understand.

“Some mercy. I think I’d rather be crucified.”

“But that’s just it, James,” Khan said, “You aren’t like them. At all.”

“How do you know that?” Jim said challengingly, “How do you know I’m not a criminal? I’ve killed a hundred men. I’m a gladiator. My whole life is a crime.”

“ _Was._ It _was,_ but it isn’t anymore,” Khan said, stepping closer to Jim, frowning deeply when Jim moved away.

“But before that. Before I was in the arena. How do you think I got there in the first place?” Jim was nearly shouting, his voice cracking in places, “I didn’t volunteer for that job, I promise.” Khan’s face hardened.

“I advise you to hold your tongue, child, or I will not hesitate to have it held for you. I do not know what brought you to the arena, but I will not argue with a slave about the treatment of slaves. End of discussion,” Khan boomed, his voice final and imposing. Jim’s face fell.

The words stung even more, now that he was aware of the feelings he held for this man. He dropped his eyes, staring at the rug with a flattened expression.

“Yes, master,” he said, defeated. The room was darkened as the last of the lamps blew out with a gust of wayward wind. Khan walked forward towards him once again, this time without any resistance on Jim’s part.

“Oh, James,” he murmured, pulling Jim forward and pressing soft, almost apologetic kisses along Jim’s jawline. Jim wrapped his arms around his master, holding him tight but feeling so very distant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman Fact of the Day: In ancient Roman times, Gaul was the place that is modern day France! Woo!
> 
> Bibamus, Meriendum Est (Death's Unavoidable, Let's have a Drink)


	9. Non Omnis Moriar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old face resurfaces. Forgiveness isn't easily given, nor is it a simple matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoO! guess who just got back from a teeny vacation in chitown!! that's right -me! as always, i love love love every one of my readers!! <33 go forth and enjoy~

The storm must have been some sort of omen. Something that the gods sent to tell Jim: “ _Leave and don’t return. This is no place for you. This wasn’t meant to happen.”_

However, even if Jim had thought of this while on the great ship, there would have been nothing he could do to stop it.

He woke suddenly, a silent scream heavy on his tongue, body curled in on itself and skin crawling once again. His master was there, propped up on one arm, sleepily stroking Jim’s sweat-soaked hair. He was mumbling something to him, but as Jim’s heart was pounding in his ears, he couldn’t make out any of the words.

The way the covers were twisted around the Emperor indicated that he had been sleeping with his front facing the wall, away from Jim. An irrational pang of guilt clenched at Jim’s already turning stomach. He felt bad for fighting with his master, but he wouldn’t change his mind. Slavery was not a small thing, especially for Jim. This rift between them was surely insurmountable.

However, exhausted by his nightmare, Jim could do nothing but accept the minute comfort that Khan offered him. Emperor or not, master or not, Khan was the only thing that existed in Jim’s world. Hating himself for his dependence on the man, Jim bitterly thought perhaps the violent, cruel Khan would be better. _Aren’t I supposed to hate my master?_

~o~

They arrived at the province in Gaul when the sun was at its highest, so the town around them was still bustling and pulsing, like veins leading to a heart. Men and women with unfamiliar faces swarmed this way and that, making Jim feel a little uncomfortable, having not been around so many people since before he was a gladiator, eons ago. He followed closely behind Khan in the mix, barely keeping up as the man barked orders to the soldiers that littered the area.

It was very humid there. The heat stuck to Jim’s neck and face and back, his golden hair flattened against the nape of his neck. He hadn’t noticed that he needed a haircut until that moment, when he was so hot that he’d rather have his head shaved, like much of the other male slaves.

The heat was getting to Khan as well. He was quite cross, snapping orders around him sharply and quickly, moving soldiers from one station to another.

“James,” the Emperor said, pulling Jim into the shade of a grocer’s tent by his arm, “I would so very appreciate if you fetched me something cool to drink. I’m sure you can find something suitable, even in this heat.” He brushed his lips languidly against Jim’s cheek, showing some of the affection that was present before their fight. He could tell that Khan felt bad about the argument –not because he was wrong, of course, just because it caused Jim to be silent for so long.

“Yes, master,” Jim said, pulling away and moving towards the crowd that was the marketplace. Before he could even take a step, however, Khan pulled him forward and planted a swift kiss on Jim’s lips. Jim’s face turned red as he glanced around, hoping nobody had seen. But the crowd had hidden them in plain sight, so nobody noticed their antics. That is, nobody made a fuss about it. If the Emperor seems like he wants to be invisible, then invisible he’ll be.

“I do wish you wouldn’t be angry at me,” Khan said, peering into Jim’s eyes, “You must understand.” Jim softened.

“Of course,” Jim said sadly, almost whispering. He didn’t understand. But he wouldn’t argue with him. Some men just can’t be reasoned with, and those in power were almost always that type. To make his point, and maybe to keep Khan from being angry at him, Jim rose on his toes and kissed Khan right on his lovely, bowed lips. It felt nice, even if Jim refused to forgive his master.

Jim turned, in search of Khan’s request, feeling Khan’s eyes on his back as he made his way through the crowd. Picking up a bottle of iced wine from a vendor, he grabbed a glass and brought it back to Khan.

“Many thanks, James,” Khan said quietly, listening to a few generals make remarks about the battles that conquered this place. Jim fell back behind him, standing a respectful distance away and holding the bottle, pretending not to watch Khan leisurely sip at his wine. Jim licked his dry lips, knowing that as soon as the meetings and duties were done for the day, he and his master would enjoy the rest of the wine.

~o~

The sun was almost down when things started to wrap up. The marketplace had lulled to a distant hum as late buyers picked up the scraps of what was left and yawning vendors began to pack up their wares. The sky was still bright with a vivid sunset of effervescent oranges and reds, lighting up the marketplace around Jim and his master.

An arm looped around his waist as he was looking up at the vibrant sky. A pair of lips kissed softly at his left shoulder. He turned his head to the side, catching Khan’s eye in the almost-night light.

“ _You! Stop there!_ ”

Startled, Khan and Jim both straightened up, looking for the source of the disturbance. A man –only a silhouette in this lighting—was being held by the wrist by a shopkeeper, head hung low, something clutched in his hand.

“A thief.” Khan stated, turning away from the situation. Instead of following his master, Jim followed his gut, and crept closer to the scene. What was happening?

“James—” Khan started.

But he was already close to the crime, staring at the perpetrator. His heart started pounding as an angular face came into view. It was set with two, impossibly blue eyes and dirty hair that nearly hid its blonde color. _It can’t be._

He felt something wet flood over one of his feet. Dazed, he looked down, realizing that he had dropped the wine bottle, its glass breaking on contact and its contents seeping into the ground. The people around him stepped away in surprise, but Jim could only gape at the thief, whose eyes were so familiar in this sea of strangers.

“James,” a frustrated Khan walked up, sliding a hand to Jim’s nape and looking at him questioningly.

The thief met Jim’s gaze, a look of something Jim couldn’t place evident in his eyes. Jim opened his mouth, but couldn’t find any words. He was still ignoring Khan.

“ _For this, you little crook, I’ll have your hand!”_

“No!” Jim yelled, the sound ripping through his throat as he threw himself into the fray, forcing himself between the thief and the shopkeeper. Angry and purple-faced, the shopkeeper raised his fist and brought it down against Jim’s face. Jim didn’t even feel the punch, his mind was still stuck at the realization he had moments earlier.

The world slowed around him, everybody moving through molasses as Khan shoved his way through and dealt with the livid vendor. He could see that his master was yelling, but couldn’t hear a thing. All he heard was his own heavy breathing as he turned to face the thief.

“ _Sam,”_ Jim croaked, meeting his brother’s intense gaze with his own.

The world fell back into its proper time as Jim began to hear again, all too suddenly being ushered away from the scene by Khan. Sam was dragged with them, once again by his wrist, but this time in the hand of the Emperor.

“What the hell,” Khan said, slowing the small party and stopping at a more private place along the street, “was that?”

“Sam!” Jim lunged at his brother, his laugh breathy and shaking, but there nonetheless. But Sam didn’t return his embrace. Sam stood stock-still and rigid in his baby brother’s arms.

“Don’t touch me,” he spat, shaking twice as much as Jim and giving Khan a heated, terrified look, “I was handling that fine on my own, I didn’t need your help.”

“Of course you did, child, you were about to lose your hand.” Khan stated simply, narrowing his eyes at the skinny man before him.

Stung, Jim reached out to his brother, only to have Sam step back, with the intent to flee.

“Sam,” Jim whispered, “It’s me. It’s Jim. Your—”

“I know who you are,” Sam barked, “And I know what you did. You abandoned me. You and mother both.” Khan, who had looked like he was about to say something, closed his mouth, surprise etched on his face.

“Abandoned…? No, you don’t understand—”

“Of course I understand, you left me, you _left me behind_ —”

“I thought you were dead! We both did, how were we supposed—”

“You didn’t come back.” The group fell silent at Sam’s words. Jim paled, feeling tears gathering at the edges of his lashes.

“I tried—”

“No, you didn’t, if you had tried you would have found me. And now I’m stealing and _starving_ and _you’re_ sitting pretty as the Emperor’s _whore,_ ” every word stabbed into Jim like a freshly sharpened knife, “and all I want is for you to _leave me in peace._ And _never_ seek me out again.”

The tears flowed down Jim’s face, making tracks in the dust that had gathered there during the day. The sun had finally set behind the hills in the distance, leaving the three men in darkness. Jim felt faint, knees shaking and speechless. It was his fault that Sam was like this. _It was all his fault._

Sam slowly stepped backwards, fear on his face. He turned, walked forward. Looked back, and sprinted into the darkness. Jim felt empty. Hollow. He didn’t realize he had fallen to his knees until Khan was kneeling next to him, brushing the tears from his face.

“I freed them today,” Kahn said, so quietly that Jim could barely hear him, “When you went to fetch my wine, I signed the final papers.” Khan’s voice was the only thing in the darkness, and Jim was fumbling around, trying to catch them before they disappeared.

“What?” he didn’t understand.

“The oarsmen. All of them. They are all free to leave, though most have decided to stay and row our way home, as I’ve offered to pay them for their troubles.” Home. The compound. Yes, it _was_ Jim’s home now. Khan scooped him up, carrying him through the darkness to somewhere that Jim didn’t know. More tears leaked from his eyes.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t do it for you. Well, I did, but,” Khan paused, finding the right words, “You showed me my humanity. I don’t know how, or when, but something is—” for the first time in the time that Jim had known him, he was struggling for words, “different. I suddenly saw myself in their place. Or worse, I saw _you_ in their place.”

They fell into silence, Jim working out what had been said to him. The more he thought about it, the less he understood. What happened to “I will not argue about the treatment of slaves with a slave”? He fisted his hand in Khan’s toga.

The rift had not closed. Their places in the world were not changed. But Khan had freed a handful of lives, and Jim felt that closeness again. The closeness that appeared when Khan first invited him into his bed. When his lips first touched Jim’s.

They arrived in a house—not as large as the compound, but still huge—and Khan immediately took Jim to the room they were staying in. It was dark in the room, but Khan didn’t light any of the lamps. How did he know that Jim needed this?

They crawled into the bed together. Jim felt empty and useless –his _brother,_ his own _brother_ hated him—and needed something. He needed to feel something.

Crawling on top of Khan, he kissed the mouth that curved so beautifully and held close the hand that freed the oarsmen. He kissed Khan hard and passionately, trying his very best to translate all of these turbulent feelings that rolled around in his head through his lips, and trying to feel _something_ other than despair.

Khan pulled him close, invading his mouth and clutching his slave as though he was going to disappear right before his eyes. The feel of Khan against him, the _fire_ that burned with every movement filled the emptiness that ate at Jim’s insides.

“ _Khan,”_ Jim gasped, tugging his fingers through the Emperor’s hair as those sinful lips began tasting and biting his neck.

Khan rolled them over, effectively stilling the movements of Jim’s hips with his own. A warm hand captured both of Jim’s, and to Jim’s surprise, Khan pulled back and looked down at his slave with the warmest, _strangest_ look he’d been given in a long time. What was that look? Jim knew it from somewhere, but he couldn't place it.

“Khan, I need you to—” Jim licked his lips, struggling to find the words. _Fill this emptiness inside of me? Make me forget what happened tonight?_ “I need— _you._ ”

Khan smiled sadly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Jim’s forehead. Well, that wasn't exactly the reaction Jim had been expecting. Khan leaned down, his mouth level with Jim’s ear.

“I won’t take you like this,” Khan said, heat still in his voice, “Not when I’ve done you such wrong. And not when such tragedy has befallen you.” Jim looked up and met his master’s eyes, relaxing in Khan’s grip and feeling his emptiness grow lighter, despite the fact that he was denied what he thought would actually cure him of his sadness.  

Khan shifted on the bed, off of Jim, and pulled the younger man close. Jim rested his head on Khan’s chest, feeling lost to the sound of the man’s voice and soothed by the steady beating of Khan’s heart. A heart that he once believed may have not existed. Now he wasn't so sure.

Perhaps there was more to Khan than he had been assuming. Maybe Khan would go on to show that.

Maybe Jim wouldn’t have a nightmare tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Non Omnis Moriar" Not all of me shall die
> 
> Roman fact of the day: Many Romans, especially vain ones, wore makeup! I'm talking eyeliner, blush, and even lipstick. Julius Caesar was even thought to have worn it!
> 
> also, i keep forgetting to mention, you can reach me on tumblr at either 
> 
> anayim-girl or anayim-writes !!


	10. Omnes Qui Occulte Peccant, Peccant Ocius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alright so warnings for this one: teeny bit of violence and some non-con stay away if that's a prob! this chap gets p intense, especially at the end, so if you were missing the crazy and had your fill of fluff, here ya go! (Though i promise there will be more fluff later in the fic of course)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good golly i am so sorry for making you wait so long. As an apology present, I've written a very long, very action-y chapter. Thanks for being patient with me everybody!

Days and nights passed in a blur. Jim only kept time by the comings and goings of his Emperor, whose life continued while Jim’s paused. In that time—how long was it? Two, three days? A week?—he slept at strange periods and ate rarely. It wasn’t that he meant to miss meals, but he never felt hungry, and so very often missed the servant meals that were held in the kitchens throughout the day. It was probably only thanks to Khan coaxing him to eat the sparse bread and water that he brought to Jim that Jim was alive.

Khan was being strangely understanding. He was tender and quiet, thoughtful almost, handling Jim like something between a wounded animal and a sick child. Jim took the strangest comfort in his Emperor. Jim almost wished that more was asked of him during this tiny vacation, if only so he wouldn’t have to dwell on the things Sam had said to him.

_You abandoned me. You and mother both._

~o~

Jim pulled the covers on the bed tightly around him. It was noon, the day before departure. Jim felt like he had been in Gaul for years, but the trip had actually flown past. It was a beautiful place, the villa they were staying in, but Jim would be glad to be home. It wouldn’t erase the memories that were seared into his brain and tormenting him at every turn, but familiar walls and faces would bring a comfort to him.

The door to the room creaked open, the near-silent footfalls of the room’s only other occupant crept towards the bed, where Jim lay facing the opposite wall. A hand smoothed its way down Jim’s side where he lay.

Jim sighed, turning and peering up at Khan, a burden in his gaze.  

“Pirates have been seen in the West. The captain’s decided that we will leave tonight, in an attempt to outrun them. It is either leave now, or in another week.” Khan said.

Jim nodded, sitting up, rubbing a hand absent-mindedly across a scar on his chest. All of his nervous habits were coming out. Khan turned to start packing up the few possessions that lingered around the room. Jim had nothing, but a few scrolls of papyrus and other personal items belonged to Khan.

Jim stood, helping Khan gather the things in silence. He had just cleared the desk when Khan came up behind him, slipping his arms and pressing his lips to Jim’s neck. Anybody observing this scene may have thought the two had just returned from a funeral, with the expressions the pair was wearing, but in all honesty, it had been like this for the entirety of the trip.

Jim was terrified that this strange grief would never end. When would Khan decide Jim wasn’t worth it anymore? Jim feared that he wouldn’t have the spirit to return to the arena. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

“We have to go,” Jim said unpersuasively.

“They’ll wait,” Khan said, turning Jim around in his arms and pulling him close.

Melting in his arms, Jim silently fell apart.

~o~

They were striding confidently towards the boat, Khan with all of his Emperor’s grace, and Jim with the best poise he could manage. Everything around them was busy with the commotion of loading the boat, especially because of the late, sudden departure.

Even in the chaos, Emperor Khan was somehow able to be tracked down by people who needed to talk to him. Two men, both standing tall with authority and firm with confidence, approached and began talking to the Emperor.

“My lord, I do wish you’d wait the week to depart,” one of the men said, a worried look on his face, “Perhaps haste is not the best way to avoid these pirates. Should you be caught—?”

“Cease your worrying, Admiral,” Khan responded, “I have made my decision. Will the both of you be returning with us?”

“I will,” the other man—the one who had thus been silent—said. His face was more pinched than his companion, more stern and cold. He gave Jim a bad feeling.

“Very good,” Khan said, obvious in his want for a quick departure, “We will be boarding soon, so I suggest you ready yourself.” Before Khan could take his leave of the men, the man who would be leaving with them took Jim’s arm, a curious look in his steely eyes.

“Surely this is not the slave that nearly lost his teeth back at the compound?” he said.

“He is the very one,” Khan said, the slightest of frowns resting on his regal face, “I was not aware that you were present for that particular happening, Alexander.”

“Oh, it was quite the spectacle. I was also present for his last gladiatorial game. Never have I seen such a warrior, to win with but a net against a man thrice his size.”

“He was impressive, yes,” Khan said, his boredom with a seemingly useless conversation evident, “But he will not be returning to the arena in the near future.”

“Pity,” The man—Alexander?—said, pulling back from Jim. The men said their farewells and soon Jim and Khan were on the boat, pulling their trunks into the cabin they had made their voyage in.

“Who were those men, Khan?” Jim asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Admirals Christopher Pike and Alexander Marcus. Pike is a good man, but Marcus is a good leader. It’s a shame one man cannot be both of those things.”

With those cryptic words, the cabin once more fell into silence. Jim stretched out on the bed while Khan flipped his way through a pile of notes, apparently checking that each were where they were supposed to be.

Jim felt drowsy again. He knew it was just the faux grief that he had been feeling the past few weeks, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes droop more and more, until he was almost asleep. And Khan was having none of it.

“No, Jim, you are staying awake, even if I have to keep you up myself.” Khan was by his side, pulling him none-too-gently into a sitting position.

“We’ll just be travelling, why can’t I—”

He was cut off with a kiss, hard and sudden. His eyes fluttered closed and he kissed back, trailing his hands up to tangle in Khan’s dark hair. Nothing was better than the electricity in Khan’s kisses, and it was a sure fire way to keep him awake and aware.

“You’ve been miserable this whole trip, and I won’t allow another minute of it,” Khan said, pulling Jim close and sliding a hand down his back, “I am ordering you to stay awake and return to yourself as best as you can.”

Jim smiled a tired smile, wrapping his arms around Khan’s neck and inhaling deeply.

“Whatever you say, master.”

~o~

It was the middle of the night when Jim woke, bleary eyed and startled, though quite unsure why. He always remembered his nightmares, in vivid detail, so it wasn’t his fitful sleep that woke him. Then what was it?

He was wrapped securely in a very comforting, very naked Khan. Their legs were tangled together in the sheets, which barely covered the important bits of the image. Their chests—both scarred and imperfect—touched when they breathed.

Khan wasn’t awake. Jim took as second to appreciate this, as it was a rare sight. He looked weighted down when he slept. Eyebrows furrowed and jaw stern. How strange.

A loud noise disrupted his musings. It came from the hallway outside the bedroom and was accompanied by a loud shout and a thump. Before he could even startle his sleeping companion into wakefulness, the door burst open, the light of at least three torches brightening the room. Men were pouring into the room, hefty and bulky, waving around strangely shaped swords and creating a chaos instantly.

“What—” Jim’s cries were drowned out by the men’s ruckus, lost in a sea of their noise.

Khan’s eyes flew open, and they both sat up, Jim having the mind to pull the sheets to at least hip level. However, as the men began approaching the bed, Khan pushed the younger man behind him, nearly sitting on him in an effort to get between these men and his slave. A dozen swords pointed at them haphazardly was the only thing stopping either of the men in the bed from leaping out and attacking.

A bald man with tattoos decorating his face and neck stepped forward, shouting an order to his men in a language Jim didn’t understand. The men resumed their shouting cacophony, crowding around the Emperor and his slave.

Jim locked eyes with the bald man. The man’s eyes gleamed, and he shouted another order, this time gesturing obviously at Jim.

“No—” Khan said, roughly shoving Jim back away from the brutes as much as he could. Jim put a shaking hand on Khan’s arm, and his last sight before getting hit _hard_ on the back of the head and blacking out was the terrified look of the Emperor, with not even a trace of the cool, collected Khan that Jim had known.

~o~

Jim woke to a musty smell and a dull ache on the back of his head. For a moment, Jim felt utter terror, convinced he was back in that tiny cell at the compound, about to be convicted of a crime against the Emperor.

“James?” A voice said, just above his head.

Jim groaned in response. Gingerly. He sat up, trying not to react to the pain that shot down his spine at the movement. He put a hand to the back of his head, which was sticky from blood and still hot.

He looked up at the man across from him. Sitting on the ground, legs splayed like he owned the world, was his Emperor, looking at him and obviously not trying to show his worry for the young man.

“Khan, what—” he cut himself off, “You’re bleeding!” He immediately shifted closer to Khan, brushing the hair off of a bleeding wound on the Emperor’s temple. He moved his hand lower, brushing a thumb over Khan’s split lip.

“The pirates were closer than we thought. We were fools to think we could outrun them.” Khan leaned into Jim’s hand, his eyes closed in pain.

“Where are we?” Jim asked, though he did have a few guesses.

“The brig of the pirates’ ship. I believe they plan to ransom me,” Khan paused, licking his lips nervously, “I’m not sure what they plan to do with you. I don’t know why they took you in the first place.”

Again, Jim had a few guesses about what they would do to him. Kill him? Maybe. Sell him off to a distant shoreline? Probably. Or maybe they’d do something even more sinister.

“It’ll be alright,” Jim said lamely, and by the look that Khan gave him, the Emperor did not believe a word of it.

“James, if one of us—should one of us, die or worse—”

 “Don’t talk like that, Khan, that’s not like you at all. You’re a warrior, too, we’ve faced worse.” Khan looked taken aback by Jim’s words. His face hardened again. Ah, there was his Khan.

The door to their cell slammed open, and three men walked in, including the bald one that Jim had seen barking orders back on their ship. The pair hurriedly stood up facing their foes with as much dignity as they could muster.

“You are the Emperor,” the man said matter-of-factly, looking down his nose at Khan. His gaze shifted to Jim, and he gave a threatening smile, “And you are his lover. Or perhaps his dog.”

“And you are his enemy,” Jim snapped back, “and your head will soon be his trophy.”

The big, burly man on the leader’s right stepped forward and backhanded Jim, the force of it throwing him off balance. Jim stood quickly, but said nothing. He didn’t need to look to know that Khan was shooting him a stern frown for mouthing off in a very dangerous situation. The leader flitted his gaze to Khan once more.

“I will ransom you for,” he thought a moment, “twenty talents of silver. Will my demands be met?”

“Twenty?” Khan scoffed, and Jim would have laughed if his face didn’t sting so much, “I’m worth at least fifty.”

The leader’s lip twitched, “My name is Nero, of the Sicilian seas. You should fear me, _King._ ” The last words were a spit in Khan’s direction. Khan’s lip curled in disgust.

“I fear no man.”

The words sent shivers down Jim’s spine.

“You should,” Nero responded flippantly, gesturing vaguely to Khan with one pale, tattooed hand. One of his goons nearly tackled him, forcing him to his knees and jerking his head up by his hair.

“Don’t you fucking dare—” Jim started, but before he could leap to his companion’s rescue, Nero’s other man had him down on his knees as well, stuck in the same position as Khan. The goons were big men, bigger than he could fight against, though if he were given the chance he could definitely outsmart them.

Nero crouched, as if he were talking to children, and said, “I’ve waited long enough to have you in my grasp, _Khan.”_ He spat the name out with disgust, “And I knew I wanted to hurt you, and I planned the way I would do it. And here you’ve brought in another variable.” He shook his head, shifting his reptilian gaze to Jim.

He stood, strolling leisurely towards Jim. The room was barely lit; only by a single torch that was placed on a holder on the wall as the men had come in. It cast everyone’s face in shadows. Nero stopped right in front of Jim, taking his face in his hand and inspecting it, turning it side to side by his chin. Jim grit his teeth to keep quiet.

“You’re far too pretty a thing to be sleeping with a man as vile as your master,” Nero said, brushing a thumb over the bruise forming on his cheek. Jim’s head pounded, but he refused to look away from this man.

“Don’t touch him—” Khan growled, but was silenced instantly by a knock to the head.

Nero laced his fingers tightly into Jim’s hair, pulling too tight and too much, and Jim just couldn’t help but let a wince appear on his face. Nero pulled his head more and more forward, until Jim’s face was pressed uncomfortably against Nero’s crotch, unable to move.

“I think you know what I want. But I also think you need some incentive.” Without releasing Jim, Nero shifted so Khan was in direct view of Jim. Khan looked stern and tough as ever, but in the short while that he had known him, Jim was able to identify the horror in his eyes. _No, no, no—_

The goon holding Khan drew his sword and held it against the smooth expanse of Khan’s pale throat. Jim could see Khan swallow nervously at the feeling of the cold metal. Jim’s heart jumped up into his throat, and he could feel himself start to shake. One wrong move and Khan was dead.  

“Now, now,” Nero crooned mockingly and petting Jim’s hair with the hand that wasn’t holding Jim’s head, “He won’t be hurt at all if you do what you’re told.” Jim steeled his eyes, fixing his gaze on something—anything—that wasn’t Khan.

Nero parted the cloth that covered his hardening erection. It hit Jim on his bruising cheek, and Nero held it there, smearing the head against Jim’s face. The boat was rocking side to side and in one last second of pure adrenaline Jim squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth.

“No—” the cry from Khan was cut off again, but Jim was too distracted with trying to breathe through his nose and not be choked. He kept his eyes shut the entire time. Nero moved his hips languidly and kept a vice-like grip in Jim’s hair. The first time Jim gagged, he heard a laugh from above him. The second time, when a few stray tears tracked down his face, he heard a commotion beside him. The third time, when he thought he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, the presence of the man behind him disappeared and Nero pulled out of his mouth suddenly.

It took all of ten seconds to notice that Khan was on the floor in a pool of blood. And it took all of five for Jim to discover he was free to stand. And it didn’t take any time at all to completely lose his shit. _I’m going to kill them._

He didn’t remember standing up, but he remembered throwing one man nearly across the room in a fit of sudden adrenaline. The man did not get back up. _They killed Khan._

He didn’t remember pulling Nero off his feet for trying to escape, but he remembered punching his face in over and over until he heard a sickening crunch, both from his hand and Nero’s face. _I_ will _kill them._

He didn’t remember tearing the last man standing away from his master, and he didn’t remember Khan’s ship showing up and Roman soldiers flooding the place. He certainly didn’t remember crawling to Khan’s unmoving body, and holding it against his desperately. But he remembered that _the blood was everywhere._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omnes Qui Occulte Peccant, Peccant Ocius (Those who can sin in secret, do so more quickly)
> 
> Roman Fact of the Day: Julius Caesar was once captured by pirates. They ransomed him for 20 talents of silver, he got offended and said he was worth 50. Sound familiar? I am guilty of stealing stories from history, its just too fun not to


	11. Errare Est Humanum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heads up for some mentions of rape/dub-con !!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy folks! here's the newest installment of NPG, please enjoy!
> 
> this ones a little shorter and is more closure than anything else. (in the next few chapters I have a few key things that i want to put into the story...that includes a full-blown frickle frackle scene. Would anybody be interested in reading a detailed sex scene, or should I just kind of dust over it or have it as a seperate behind-the-scenes kind of thing or what? Tell me! I need feedback! ))

Jim’s last solid memory was being curled around his Emperor’s unmoving body, hands pressed desperately to the deep sword wound that striped its way down the man’s neck and onto his chest. It almost reached the quickly fading scar that lay there horizontal—the one that Jim had given him during the incident with the snake. It seemed like a million years had passed since that night.

Jim was filled with both terror and relief. He had thought that his Emperor had been killed—completely convinced that he had lost the only steady thing in his life. So when he finally accepted that Khan was alive (with the help of a Roman soldier who had to shake Jim as hard as he could so he would listen) he was terrified that he would lose him anyway. It wasn’t looking good.

Another soldier had tried to separate Jim from Khan, but Jim—in his crazed state—refused to move from his master’s side. Khan was unconscious and losing blood _so much blood_ quickly. The scent of it flooded Jim’s senses entirely, and he struggled to keep himself from lashing out at all of the people that surrounded them. It was sticky and hot and he couldn’t rid himself of it.

From there, presumably, Khan was moved back onto the boat that belonged to him and treated by Bones, whose steady hands must have saved his life. The journey didn’t register to Jim at all. Bones must have said something to the rest of the staff because nobody bothered Jim about the incident. He stayed with his Emperor. He guarded him.

The next time that Jim really came back to himself was when he was back at the compound, in Khan’s quarters, no less. Khan was situated on the bed carefully, covered in bandages and pale as death. Jim was curled up on a large armchair that had since been moved right next to where Khan’s sleeping form lay.

Bones was applying a bandage to his ribs, which ached horribly.

“… and you’d be much better off if you went and got some bed rest yourself, but I think we both know you won’t leave Khan.” He was chatting amiably, with the tone of voice of someone who wasn’t expecting an answer. Jim looked down at his hand, unsurprised to find it heavily bandaged and aching horribly.

“Bones?” Jim’s voice was broken from disuse, and Bones jumped a little at the sudden noise, “Can you get me some water?”

“Jim! You’re back with the land of the living, then?” Bones hopped up and crossed the room to a pitcher on a table. He poured a glass and brought it to Jim, giving one surveying glance to Khan and extending a hand to Jim, who was attempting to sit up.

“Is Khan okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Bones said, giving Jim a strange look, “You’ve certainly become attached to him, haven’t you?” Jim shrugged and sipped his water in order to not reply.

“We don’t have a lot of news, Jim. We know—vaguely—what happened on that pirate ship, but nothing else,” Bones said wearily, “Our only concern right now is getting the Emperor back in good condition. Nobody’s used to seeing him like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we know he’s a soldier—a warrior—but he’s never been one to lay quietly while death creeps in on him. This guy’s been through hell and back, Jim, and damn if we thought he was invincible. This isn’t a wakeup call anybody was expecting.” Bones replied, sighing and rubbing his brow tiredly.

Jim examined a slash that crossed his forearm. The stitches were neat and clean.

“Thanks for patching me up, Bones. And for fixing Khan, I guess.” Jim said.

“It’s my job, kid, and I would never let the Emperor die under my watch. Can you imagine me trying to get a job after that?” Bones joked, but the fond look he gave Jim and the warm hand on his shoulder told a different story. He stood up and said, “I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you two. Drink lots of water. If you feel up to moving around, for the gods’ sakes, go lay down.”

That wasn’t an order. Jim didn’t _have_ to leave. Still, he promised he’d drink water and he watched Bones leave the room.

He stood carefully, testing out each limb and taking inventory of his various bruises and bumps. The hand wrapped in bandages was aching horribly, and a strange, dull pain emanated from the side of his head. Had he hit it when he was fighting?

He took a tentative step forward, cup of water in hand. He immediately had to stop and regain his balance; the room was swimming. He made it to the table after exerting an embarrassing amount of effort and put the glass down next to the pitcher. He could almost see his reflection in the shiny metal of the new pitcher—a stranger with long hair and full cheeks. He touched a hand to his face, remembering when his features were sunken in. When he was a gladiator.

“James,” a weak voice called from the bed.

Jim whipped around, startled. He nearly fell over from the dizziness that resulted in his action. Khan was awake, his face pinched—as if in pain—and looking at Jim with an expression he couldn’t place.

Khan’s hand reached out carefully, beckoning Jim to come over to the bed. Jim immediately started moving, sore and unstable. Khan looked on as Jim struggled to the bed, collapsing on its lush comforters, just to the right of his Emperor.

The whole ordeal was ridiculous. Jim—the man who defeated another gladiator with only a net, who saved the Emperor from a sinister asp, who killed many men with his bare hands—was having trouble walking across the room without just tipping over.

His head resting on a pillow by Khan, Jim began laughing, and once it started he found it very difficult to stop. He laughed and laughed, eyes lighting up and hand finding Khan’s easily.

“Laughing in the face of your injuries is a very strange thing to do, James,” Khan said, when Jim’s giggling subsided. He held Jim’s hand tightly, as if Jim were going to leave. He was very careful not to move his head much, in fear of agitating his wound, but found a comfortable reclining position where he could look at his slave.  

“What can I say?” Jim replied, “It’s a very funny thing—to be alive.”

“It is?”

“At least, I think so,” Jim continued, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable, “You know, I had this master once. I was only—what, ten? Eleven? Well, his son was about my age and he dared me to steal his father’s horse and ride as far and as fast as I could.”

“Tell me you didn’t steal this man’s horse.” Khan said, looking amused.

“I did. It was a big one, too. Her coat was black as tar, and her eyes were the color of a storm. What a beauty,” Jim grinned, “I rode all the way to the shore—”

“You lived by the ocean?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve lived everywhere. The ocean, the mountains, even the desert for a while,” Jim said flippantly, “Anyway, I rode her all the way to the shore, but she got spooked by something in the grass and threw me off. My master found me some six hours later, laying in the weeds with a broken leg and just laughing my ass off.”

“Very strange, for a child.”

“You bet. And he said to me—you’ll like this one—he said to me: ‘Kirk, you must have a great fate ahead of you, or else the gods would never have given you the ability to smile through pain. I fear you will use your dying breaths to summon a laugh.’”

Khan smiled at Jim’s story, and Jim chalked it up to a victory that his face was becoming less tense and pained. He tastefully left out the part of the story where—after he’d been carried back and given a splint for his leg—he was told he’d be sold for his inability to obey. That was kind of a downer.

“James,” Khan said, “We need to talk about what happened. On that ship.” His voice was quiet, and he brought a hand up to rub absently at the bandage-covered wound on his chest. How long would it take him to heal? Would the assassin from before try to hurt him in this vulnerable state?

“I—” Jim started, licking his lips nervously, “I don’t think I can.” Khan frowned.

“I know it’s hard, but if we don’t talk about it—”

“No, Khan,” Jim said, frustrated, “I can’t. As in, I—” How could he put this? “I don’t remember most of the details. Everything after—after—” After Jim was violently taken advantage of? “You got hurt, is blurry. I lost myself for a while. I can’t remember a thing.”

Khan was silent for a moment; Jim could pretty much see the wheels moving in his head. Tentatively, Jim pulled Khan’s hand into his lap, holding it with both of his own and examining the smooth planes of his skin, anything to not look at the Emperor. He knew what he was going to say.

“James,” Khan said softly, “You can’t pretend that it didn’t happen.”

“I’ve killed a lot of men, Khan, what’s a few more?” Jim replied, not looking up at the Emperor.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

“I don’t—”

“James,” Khan interrupted him firmly, frustration obvious in his voice, “they— _he—”_

“Don’t say it—”

“— _violated_ you.”

Jim’s face flushed violently. He dropped Khan’s hand and jerked away, as if burned. He refused to meet his master’s eyes, instead opting to make eye contact with the painting nearest the door of the room.

“James—” Khan started, but was cut off by a sharp, cold laugh from Jim. There was no humor in it, only bitterness.

“I hope you don’t think I’m _broken_ now, Khan,” Jim spat. He could feel the frown that Khan was giving, even if he didn’t look.

“I don’t think you’re broken, James, but it’s not something that anyone can just walk away from unscathed.” Khan amended lightly. Jim wasn’t a child. He didn’t need to be spoken to as if he were. He turned quickly and looked Khan straight in the eyes.

“You do know that this wasn’t the first time that’s happened, right?” Jim said coolly, “I’ve been _violated_ before. I’ve been raped.”

Khan sat there, eyes wide, completely dumbfounded. Jim was surprised—surely his master wasn’t so naïve?

“It was always the same,” Jim continued, still fuming, “my masters or their friends. I was ‘too pretty’, always luring them away from their work, their wives. I was ‘too much of a tease,’” he stopped, voice and face softening a little, “So yeah, they’d come at night. And it’d hurt and I’d beg them to stop. But they never did, so I got stronger. I’m stronger now. Nero never stood a chance.”

Khan leaned forward, despite the obvious pain in the wound over his chest. He pulled Jim close to him and held him tight, hands shaking. Jim realized that he was shaking too. He snuck his arms around Khan’s waist, and buried his face in his neck, squeezing his eyes shut so no tears would escape.

“But I wasn’t strong enough when I thought they killed you,” Jim said, voice muffled, “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

“James,” Khan murmured, bringing Jim’s face up with the slightest guidance of his elegant hand, their breath now mingling, “Oh, my James.”

~o~

When Bones checked on them later that afternoon, he found them both asleep, wrapped securely around one another. He had half a mind to wake them up and see how they were feeling, but decided instead to return later, a lopsided smile on his face.

Who would have thought that the ice-cold Emperor and the gladiator boy would become so enraptured with each other?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errare Est Humanum (To Err is to be Human)
> 
> Roman fact of the day: Roman graffiti was absolutely hilarious. not really a fact, but if you have time, look into it!


	12. Nulli Secundus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what i havent been gone for a million years what are you talking about

The door was closed for five weeks. For five whole weeks, the Emperor and his slave recovered and rested. Five weeks of quiet talks, doctor visits, and long periods of sleeping. During these weeks, Jim did not return to his own room. Instead, he found refuge with his master and spent his recovery aiding Khan and giving him companionship. 

“James,” Khan said, sitting up and giving Jim a weary frown as the slave picked up the empty pitcher on the table, “I don’t think—”

“Relax,” Jim said with a grin, “I don’t think anyone is going to try to take my teeth again. Not this time, anyway. Besides, if we keep sending Bones to fill it, he’ll explode.”

A short sigh of compliance came from the resting Emperor. Jim set the pitcher down for a moment and practically skipped back to the bed to give his master a thank-you kiss. He was a ball of energy, bright and loud, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’d been cooped up too long, and his warrior spirit—or perhaps just his inner child—needed to get out and do something.

He’d actually been feeling restless prior to their trip to Gaul, seeing as he was used to being outside and active before living with his Emperor, but the unexpected appearance and rejection by his brother extinguished the vigor he’d been feeling. His return to a life that had become normal to him brought that vigor back.

“I’ll only be gone for a few minutes,” Jim threw over his shoulders as he grabbed the pitcher and left the room. The halls weren’t foreign anymore, but the air felt like it was. He hadn’t left for so long—he wasn’t tired of the Emperor’s quarters per se, but he did long for the view of something new or unfamiliar.

He was going so quickly that he didn’t see Senator Spock walking along the path to the fountain until he had run right into him, spilling the Senator’s scrolls every which way.

“Oh, I am so sorry, sir,” Jim babbled, the high that the fresh air had given him fading, “I wasn’t looking where I was going at all.”

“It’s quite all right,” Spock said awkwardly as Jim scrambled to pick up the scrolls and still keep a firm grip on the shiny metal pitcher in his hand.

Straightening himself before Spock, he managed a quick, tense bow before moving to edge around the Senator, who was now blocking his way. However, Spock appeared in deep thought, looking at Jim with a curious expression. Jim pressed his lips together, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was not in a place where he could speak freely. Had he been in the Emperor’s quarters with Khan, he might have said ‘is there something on my face, or do you just think I’m pretty?’

But he was not with Khan right now.

“Kirk,” Spock addressed suddenly, snapping Jim out of his musings, “I’d like to know,” there was a pause, where Spock restarted, having reevaluated his words, “Did you truly save our Emperor, that night with the snake? And again on the pirate’s ship?” His words were calculated and cool, bordering on overly formal.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Jim said nervously, not knowing exactly how to answer—should he match Spock’s formality?—“I did. In a way. I killed the snake…protected him on the ship.”

“As a Senator I’d like to commend your courage,” Spock said authoritatively, and then more quietly, “and as someone who has known the Emperor for a number of years, I’d like to express my greatest thanks.”

Jim was a little shocked at this softening of tone, especially from Senator Spock. The only attitude he’d ever seen the man have was a cold one. And what was that about knowing the Emperor for years? Were they friends?

“Uh,” Jim coughed, trying to cover up his bewilderment, “thank you, Senator. That means a lot.” Spock nodded at him in return, re-adjusting the scrolls in his arms and making his way back down the path.

Jim shuffled down the path to the fountain, thoughtfully mulling over the words he had just exchanged with Senator Spock, relishing in the warm Roman breeze. He didn’t particularly miss working all day in the hot sun, but staying indoors as often as he did nowadays was wearing him a little thin. His skin was no longer as bronze as it was—but that could be due to the amount of time he had to be recovering, far away from even the smallest stream of sunlight.

As he approached the clearing, he heard the laughing voice of Doctor McCoy.

“And then what did you do?” Bones was saying, energetically chatting with a man Jim couldn’t clearly see as he entered the clearing.

“I ran, of course!” a voice responded, light and airy, and they both exploded into laughter once again. Jim looked down, saw bare feet. A new slave?

“Jim!” Bones had noticed him, “I was just about to come see you, actually, how’s the Emperor?”

“He’s fine,” Jim replied, his curiosity of the other man clear in his voice, “Who’s this, then?”

The man—or boy, he supposed—was thinner than Jim, probably as thin as Jim was when he was first drafted as a gladiator, before he gained any muscle mass. A mop of curly hair sat on the man’s head, framing huge, sweet-looking eyes.

“I’m Pavel,” the boy said in a familiar accent, sticking a hand out to shake, “You must be the Emperor’s, er,” he searched for the word, “companion.”

Jim narrowed his eyes a little bit, friendly smile still frozen on his face. He shook it off.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jim laughed, taking the boy’s hand and clasping it in both of his amiably, “What’re you doing here, Pavel? Don’t tell me the good doctor finally got an assistant after all these years,” Okay so he was pretending he’d been here for a long time. No big deal.

“No, no,” Pavel joked back, “A Senator brought me here from my home, very far away. I was on my way to his current residence now, actually.” His tone gave him an air of finality, as if he really were planning to leave soon. Huh.

Pavel said a few quick goodbyes and left the clearing; Bones and Jim were the only ones left.

“He seems,” Jim trialed off, giving Bones a look and waving his hand in a non-committal gesture. Bones laughed.

“He _seems_ like a good kid. Came from Germania, family died in a fire and he was sold into slavery,” Bones said, taking the pitcher from Jim and starting to fill it up, “He’s got a pretty face, he’ll be living well here.” Jim frowned. A fire? A jolt of sympathy made him feel guilty for his strange, automatic dislike for the boy.

“Thanks Bones,” Jim said, a little lost in thought. He grabbed the pitcher and began the short journey back to the room, slower this time.

He approached the room and was met by tinkling laughter once again. The guards opened the doors for him, and he was so distracted by what he heard that he nearly forgot to nod his thanks.

“When did you get here, Pavel?” the smooth voice of Jim’s Emperor interrupted the laughter.

“Not long ago at all, my Lord, days ago.”

What the hell?

Jim walked in the room, ignoring the two other occupants and setting the pitcher carefully down on the dresser, back facing the bed. When he turned around, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Pavel was lounging gracefully on the chair next to the bed, leaning forward in full interest to whatever the Emperor had been saying.

Jim almost cleared his throat to remind Khan that he was there, but there was no need. A flash of eye contact told Jim that Khan had not forgotten him at all, but was at the moment preoccupied. Jim almost huffed.

But where was this sudden spike of jealousy come from? Jim frowned deeply when the Emperor’s clear, blue gaze glanced back at the slave in front of him.

Pavel was not the same kind of slave as Jim. He had not been raised on farms and in fields, and had not fought or worked a day of his life. He was too…graceful. He was elegantly perched on the seat, holding with him a grace that Jim could never hope to mimic. His skin was clear and pale. Not a single scar adorned him. His hands were soft and clean.

Jim moved from his spot from the dresser to the bathroom, silent as a ghost, even when Pavel’s curious gaze finally found him. Jim shut the door gently behind him, ignoring the next spout of laughter. Pavel had a lovely laugh. Had Khan ever heard Jim’s?

There was no reason to be jealous. None. He’d met the boy once. Did Khan already know him? Or did Pavel just stumble into the Emperor’s quarters? Why had the guards let him in?

Jim began filling the tub. He poured a good amount of oils into the steaming water and stripped, lowering himself down into the calming pool with a satisfied grunt. The hot water made him feel a bit better.

It couldn’t have even been ten minutes after Jim submerged himself into the water that the familiar weight and presence of the Emperor made its way into the tub as well. Warm, strong hands found Jim, running up his back and dancing along his neck. He didn’t open his eyes, he just sighed and leaned his head toward Khan.

“James,” Khan mumbled, pulling Jim easily onto his lap and running a hand through his damp hair, “Are you unwell?”

“Unwell?” Jim questioned.

“Upset. You did not speak to me before coming in here.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” Jim said, lazily opening his eyes to look at his master. His wounds were nearly healed.

“The boy had stumbled his way to my doorstep,” Khan said. It wasn’t an explanation. It was a dismissal. Jim squirmed a little as Khan’s hands started to become bolder. One hand dipped deep beneath the water and slid over Jim’s bare ass, showing Jim exactly what was on Khan’s mind.

“Well it’s pretty strange that the guards let him in,” Jim breathed, “He could’ve been an assassin or something.” Khan laughed deeply, face pressed into Jim’s neck as the slave’s fingers combed through his hair.

“I don’t think they had the same line of thought.” The vibrations of Khan’s voice chilled Jim to the bone, and almost distracted him from what the Emperor had said. Almost.

“What does that mean?”

“The guards probably thought he was, well,” Khan ran a hand up Jim’s side to brush against his bare chest, “One of my ‘conquests.’”

Jim frowned, eyebrows furrowing.

“Oh, James,” Khan sighed, beginning to lazily kiss the corner of Jim’s mouth.

“Why would they think that?” Jim said, voice a little muffled. Khan pulled back.

“Sorry?”

“Why would they think that?” there was no emotion in Jim’s voice, not really. He wasn’t angry. Instead he felt that he had just reached an epiphany.

“James, oh my great caged tiger,” Khan’s voice was pleasantly teasing, but to Jim it felt mocking, “I am the Emperor, I can hold many creatures if I so please.”

Jim’s jaw set. With nothing more than a flash of skin and an almost silent splash, Jim was gone from the tub. The last thing Khan saw was Jim disappearing behind the door.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Nulli Secundus" Second to None
> 
> Roman Fact of the Day: Ancient Romans would sometimes vomit between courses at a feast so they could go back and eat more. 
> 
> Holy poop im so sorry for the late late lateness


	13. Ne Cede Malis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im not even going to apologize for the long wait y'all know how sorry i am<3

Jim missed his mother. His strange new life at the compound with its tender moments and sudden violence and conspiracies and jealousy flew by him in a whirlwind—but all he could think about for the time being was the fact that he missed his mother.

He hadn’t seen her for ages—not since the she had passed—so this sudden, overwhelming homesickness seemed unwarranted. He missed her calmness. No matter what happened she was always so calm.

She was calm when she died.

His dreams were still haunted by the fire—the _burning_ and the _blood everywhere_ —that first took him from his home, so very far away, and introduced him to his life as a slave. He was too young to be working out in the fields, but he did anyway. Nobody thought he would live more than a few years, but he managed to make it back to his master’s house. Every night before they went to bed, his mother would pray to the Roman gods to protect her son once again.

“You seem _contemplative_ today,” Bones voice reached through the smoke.

“Hmm?” Jim started, looking up from the laundry he was doing.

“You’ve been washing the same tunic for the last ten minutes. I figured I’d make sure everything was going okay in your funny head,” Bones joked, resting a hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I got in a bit of trouble with Khan, though,” he made a face, “That is, we aren’t really speaking. And I guess I’m just feeling a little…lost.”

“Well, if you want my advice—”

“Which I do not—”

“I think you should go apologize for whatever it is,” Bones looked a little scolding.

“Apologize? I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, Jim, he’s the damn Emperor. Absolutely nobody will take your side, so why should you?” Bones’ look softened, “Look, I’ll finish the laundry up if you go talk to him. Deal?” Bones said.

Jim sighed and looked down at his hands. They were fairly red from the awkward motion of scrubbing and felt that he could really use a break anyway.

“Fine.”

“There you go, chin up now,” Bones said, shooing him away from the hub. Jim walked dazedly around the corner, making his way up the rolling halls of the compound. He took his time, partially because there was truly no hurry if nobody was expecting him and partially because he was incredibly nervous to speak to his master, whom he had no spoken with since their minute spat.

As his walk turned more into a stroll, he tilted his face up, catching a bit of the sunlight on his cheeks. He approached Khan’s building, slowing to a stop and taking a seat on a stone bench that lay under the shade of a beautiful tree.

What was he going to say to Khan? Should he really apologize? It wasn’t that Jim was angry at him because Khan had every right to sleep with whomever he pleases. It wasn’t anger he felt. Honestly, he was just hurt.

Jim would have to accept it though, if he wanted to continue to live with the Emperor. And he truly did want to remain in his position. He would struggle, though. He wasn’t used to housework; he’d always been a slave in the fields before he became a gladiator. Working beside other, silent slaves who were hallow with their unfulfilling lives.

And to be honest, he couldn’t really blame Khan for seeking others to join him in his bed. Jim was covered in scars. He didn’t know how to be gentle or affectionate; he couldn’t even begin to understand how to be sweet and docile when his life was so aggressive.

But he had to try. If he didn’t, he would wind up in the arena once again. He shuddered, despite the warmth around him. If Khan condemned him to the life of a gladiator once more, he might end up begging the man to kill him then and there—it would be much more merciful. No, he could not be a gladiator again.

“Master, I did not expect to see you until tonight. Is everything alright?”

A voice interrupted his thoughts. Chekov’s voice. He and an unknown master were around the corner, just out of sight. Jim froze, not daring to get up now and reveal his presence, especially to the boy.

“All is as well as it can be in this place, I suppose,” his master responded, “You were seeing the Emperor again today? Yes?”

Jim knew that voice, but couldn’t put a finger on where he had heard it.

“Yes, master, and he’s asked me to see him again, tomorrow.”

Jim tried not to feel anything. He should leave now, if he were caught—

“Good. I knew that the fool would not be able to resist; that other slave of his was too marred to hold his attention for long. He’ll be out and back into the fight before the end of the week.”

All thoughts of leaving vanished. Who dared call the Emperor a fool?

“You will give me my freedom, yes? I will not continue with this crime if—”

Jim heard the unmistakable sound of a slap.

“Shut up! Your voice will lead to my ruin, child, and that will mean death for you! I will give you your freedom when your job is done and the Emperor is dead.”

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the fear that rushed into his head at the man’s words. This was the man who conspired against the Emperor! He whipped around the corner, hoping to catch the fiend but was met with only the smallest glance as two figures rounded the corner at the opposite side of the courtyard.

Without another thought he walked swiftly to his master’s quarters, trying not to run. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. He was no longer worried about his meager problems with Khan; Khan’s safety was at stake.

He burst through the doors, jogging to the open door to the study to see his master writing calmly at his desk.

“Good to see you,” Khan said coldly, without looking up.

Now that he was here, Jim was unsure of how to continue. So he just let his mouth move for him.

“I overheard in the courtyard—the man who let the snake—a conspiracy against you—” okay, not thinking was not helpful. Khan looked up at _conspiracy_ and stood, and took a stride towards Jim.

“What did you say?” His tone was ice, his face stone.

“I overheard in the courtyard two men—one was that Chekov boy, the other I didn’t know—”

 “Chekov.” Khan’s eyes narrowed at Jim.

“They were planning something. They said they wanted you dead, they called you a fool!”

“This is cruel, James,” the Emperor sneered, “Have you no shame? That boy has done nothing to you!”

“No, Khan, you don’t understand! My petty jealousy has nothing to do with this!”

“Do not address me as such,” Khan said coldly, his low enough to be a whisper, “And your _petty jealousy_ has everything to do with it.” He took ahold of Jim’s upper arm, dragging him out of the study and into the bedroom.

“Do you think I have not noticed how poorly you cooperate here?” Khan slammed him against the door leading out into the hallway.

“Please—”

“Do not speak. Do you think I have not noticed your attitude? Your insolence?”

“Master—”

“Silence!” Khan was dragging him into the hallway and down towards Jim’s quarters. Jim was shaking, face pale and mind becoming numb. “I put up with all of that. I found you interesting, even likable. But I will _not—_ ”

He shoved Jim into the tiny room.

“ _—let you lie to me._ ”

The door slammed shut; the sound of a lock being put in place was quickly overlooked as Jim heard Khan station a few guards outside of the room.

“ _No!_ ” Jim yelled, slamming his fist on the door in frustration. He slid down it, breathing heavily and pulling at the long hair of his bangs. Khan was going to die! Why wouldn’t he listen to him? _Why_ couldn’t he just listen!

_Khan was going to die._ Chekov or his master or whoever else was involved was going to kill Khan and Jim was the only one who knew about it. And now he had ruined any chance to communicate this with Khan.

Fighting to regain his breath, Jim staggered to the sink and mirror, leaning on the sink with both hands. He did not recognize the man he saw staring back at him. The man with soft cheeks; the man with long hair. His scars, peeking out of his tunic, reminded him where he had come from.

His mind filled with fog and frustration, he grabbed a knife haphazardly from below the sink—the one sharp enough that he carefully shaved his face with it. Grabbing a handful of hair, he began to shear the blonde hair form his head, letting it fall into the sink and onto the floor.

He cut and pared and cropped his hair, tearing away the new identity; he couldn’t do any good in this place. He belonged in the arena. He could kill without thinking he could _kill_ and _slaughter_ the men who came before him but he could not save the man he had grown to adore. _Khan was going to die._

With most of the fight drawn out of him, Jim looked back up into the mirror. His hair was cropped short; he was a gladiator and nobody could argue if they looked at him. His hair was short, his muscles were prominent, and his scars were stories that would be forever locked in the marred tissue of his body.

He dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor beside the mess he had left with his hair. He pulled the tunic over his head and stumbled into bed, exhaustion taking him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ne Cede Malis" Do Not Give In to Misfortune
> 
> Roman Fact of the Day: The original name of the Coliseum was Flavian Amphitheater, after the Flavian Dynasty of Emperors.


End file.
